


soft shines through

by somehowunbroken



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, Marriage of Convenience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-19 07:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19352620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: Defensemen have to marry forwards. It's a rule, and Tyson's been putting it off for longer than he should've, and now he needs to marry someone before the season starts or he won't be able to play.Enter Tyson Jost.





	soft shines through

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [ofjustimagine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofjustimagine/pseuds/ofjustimagine) in the [PuckingRare2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2019) collection. 



> -this was! so much fun to write!!!
> 
> -thanks to logan and mags for reading this as i wrote it, and to stormylullabye for beta reading. y'all are heroes.
> 
> -title is from melissa ferrick's "[goodbye youth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u3jh5nUfE2s)," because it just fits.

"It's time," management tells him.

"You've been putting this off for way too long," management tells him.

"You don't really have a choice," management tells him.

Tyson scowls at each one of the messages; he can't fight management, not if he wants to keep his job, but that doesn't mean he doesn't _want_ to. The last one, though, drains all of the fight out of him.

"This is stupid," he says to Gabe. "Like, this is the worst thing that could be happening to me."

Gabe hums. "Worse than that time you hit on me on camera?"

"Which time?" Tyson asks, frowning. "Because, like, the Valentine's card thing was hilarious, don't even lie."

"I was thinking about the stallion comment, but that was also pretty funny," Gabe says, sitting in the stall beside Tyson. "You should've just married me when you had the chance."

"No," Tyson whines.

Gabe laughs, which is better than most of the reactions he could've had, honestly. "Or Nate."

"Even more no," Tyson says, making a face. "He swore off team marriage, and he doesn't have to do it. At least you were into it, even if I would've had to fight EJ over you."

Gabe hums a little. "I mean, he and I work pretty well together, so you might have to fight me for EJ, too."

"You're gross and you deserve each other," Tyson informs him. He manages to hold his scowl for a solid five seconds before sighing. "Who made the stupid rules, anyway?"

"Bettman," Gabe says, as if Tyson doesn't already know that. "C'mon, it promotes team unity or whatever."

"Defensemen being forced to marry forwards promotes team unity," Tyson repeats flatly. "It doesn't make any sense. If they want to promote unity so badly, why don't they make D pairs marry each other?"

Gabe snickers. "I mean—"

"Gabriel," Tyson interrupts sternly. "Don't take the low-hanging fruit there. Do not."

"Too late," Gabe says. "Look, it's the rules, like the salary floor or that thing where if an old player retires his team has to pay a penalty for his contract."

"You're comparing my future marriage to the cap recapture penalty," Tyson says. "Forget that. You're comparing your _own_ marriage to the cap recapture penalty. I'm telling your husband."

"Who do you think explained it to me?" Gabe asks. "Look, Tys, it's not that bad, seriously. You know most of the guys around the League treat it like it's a big joke thing. So suddenly you have a roommate and someone to carpool to work with; it's not like the League is standing there making sure you're sleeping together."

Tyson makes a face. "As if I could ever even think about getting it up with Bettman watching," he says. "That's gross."

"It sure is," Gabe agrees. "Look, there are a bunch of guys who would be fine with it, okay? Mikko would be—"

"No," Tyson cuts in. "I'm not marrying someone who wants to go to Finland every summer."

Gabe rolls his eyes. "It doesn't have to be real," he says again. "Just because me and EJ are for real doesn't mean that's the normal way it works, Tys, c'mon. You know G and Colin are, like, best bros forever."

"I definitely know that," Tyson replies. "They make it very, very clear."

"Barbs and Borque, too," Gabe goes on. "I'm pretty sure they fistbumped at their ceremony."

"Landy," Tyson says, leaning back in his stall. "Look, I appreciate you trying to make me feel better about this, but if I get married, I want it to, like..."

"Mean something," Gabe fills in quietly when Tyson doesn't continue. "I know."

Tyson sighs. "The fact that there's an opt-out clause if one of you retires or gets traded doesn't help," he says. "I just... I don't want this. I don't want to do this, Gabe."

"I know," Gabe repeats, and there's something sympathetic in his voice. "I'm sorry. It's the rules, though, and if you want to keep playing..."

"Of course I want to keep playing," Tyson says. He's exhausted and the season hasn't even started yet. "I just also want to bitch about this."

"Blizzards and _Robin Hood_?" Gabe offers, standing. "I can watch some Disney with you while you figure out your options."

"I don't think I get options," Tyson says. "But I'll take you up on the offer anyway."

Gabe laughs. "We can make a list," he offers. "We'll find you a nice boy, Tys. One who won't mind moving in with you for the good of the team."

Tyson rolls his eyes as he gets up. "There are no nice boys on this team," he says. "I've seen every single one of our teammates completely smashed, and there are just no illusions left after that."

"You might have a point," Gabe concedes. "Still. We can at least make a list of the single ones."

"It's a start," Tyson agrees. A start for something he doesn't want, sure, but it's like that one year in high school where he had physics first period. Sometimes shit just happens, and you have to deal with it. And there's no way he's failing a fake marriage the same way he failed physics, so maybe things are actually looking up.

-0-

"So, uh," Josty says. He's standing in front of Tyson's stall, and he's absolutely not looking Tyson in the eyes. "I have a problem."

"That's why we have trainers," Tyson says immediately. "Dude, I can't help you with—"

"Ew, no," Josty says, wrinkling his nose. It gets him to look at Tyson, at least, which is good. "I have a problem, and I know you have… a _problem_ , and I think we might be able to help each other here."

Tyson tries not to tense up, but it's not like his situation is a secret from the team. Tyson's not exactly big on secrets in the first place, but management had sent one of the assistant GM guys to make an announcement to the team on the first day of training camp. Tyson had been mortified, but that's at least a twice weekly occurrence for him, so he'd dealt with it.

"I can't even imagine what kind of problem you have that you think is worth trading for help with my problem," Tyson says, trying to keep his voice flat instead of getting snippy. Josty isn't being an asshole, he reminds himself.

"You haven't been in my house this year," Josty replies, tone just as even. "Look, I'll buy you lunch, you can listen to my thing, and then we can see if we can trade help here."

"Fine," Tyson says. He's actually curious at this point, and he glances over to where Kerf is studiously un-taping his socks. Comphs is nowhere to be seen, but he's usually one of the first guys in the shower, so Tyson isn't actually surprised. "Is the problem, like—"

"We don't need to bring anyone else in on this," Josty says quickly. "It's fine, they're fine, it's just—a problem."

"You make no sense," Tyson says. "I accept the lunch invite, though."

"Good," Josty says, and there's something honestly relieved in his tone. "Showers, lunch, talking."

"It's a—plan," Tyson says, catching himself at the last second. It's not smooth or subtle, but then again, Tyson usually isn't. Josty doesn't react, though, which is either because he's actually being nice or because he didn't notice. It's usually a toss-up with Josty, if Tyson's being honest.

They don't go anywhere even slightly nice, which is honestly a relief; Tyson had had sort of a crisis on the drive over, wondering if Josty was going to try to pull some sort of awkward romantic thing, since this is at least half about the whole marriage bullshit. Thankfully, though, Josty suggests Red Robin, which is only one step above Denny's in the Least Romantic Spots To Eat Near The Rink competition.

"So," Tyson says once they've ordered. "You obviously know what _my_ problem is. I'm kind of dying to know what yours is at this point."

Josty sighs one of the most dramatic sighs that Tyson's ever heard, and he has given some pretty dramatic sighs of his own over the years. He's a connoisseur at this point or something. "You're going to laugh," he warns.

"I mean, probably," Tyson says, shrugging. "At least you know that going in?"

"So Comphy and Kerf got together over the summer," Josty says bluntly. "I'm living in the honeymoon suite and I need to be _not_ living in the honeymoon suite as soon as possible. Like, preferably today."

Tyson blinks, and then he cracks up.

"See, I knew you were going to laugh," Josty says, and his tone is super whiny, but he's grinning at Tyson. "Look, man, they can't keep their hands to themselves. They have banged in every single room in the house, my bedroom included, and it's honestly worse that I have to see them cuddling all the time than it is that I definitely walked in on them fucking in my bed."

"Oh my god," Tyson says. He's laughing so hard that it's kind of difficult to breathe. "Oh my _god_ , Josty."

"Tell me about it," Josty says. "I need out of there. I know you need a, like, special roommate, and I am offering to fill that role if you get me the fuck out of the newly-boning-bliss house."

" _Special roommate_ ," Tyson echoes. He's gasping for breath at this point, and there are literally tears running down his face from how hard he's laughing. "Oh my god."

The waitress comes out of the kitchen with a tray of food; Tyson sees her eye their table, then detour in the other direction. He can't blame her, honestly.

"So that's my problem," Josty says, still grinning as Tyson tries to pull himself together. "I know you super, super do not want to get married. I totally don't give a shit, and if you want to keep trying to find, like, The One on the side, you absolutely can. I'll sign all the paperwork and we can deal with anything that comes up for either of us as it comes up."

"Ah, hell," Tyson says. He's wiping at his eyes as the waitress finally delivers their food. "I don't know, man. I mean, I get your situation, and it might work, but…"

"But you don't want to," Josty says, nodding. "Which I get, man, and I think it's garbage that they make you. And if you already have someone else in mind, then I'll just, like, move in with Grubi or something. I figured it couldn't hurt to offer, that's all."

Tyson makes a face and grabs his drink, taking a sip. "I don't have anyone else in mind."

"Okay," Josty says. He glances at his plate and grabs a french fry, then holds it out across the table. "I don't have a ring, but like. Marry me or whatever."

Tyson bites his lip to keep from losing it laughing again as he takes the french fry. "Sure, I guess."

Josty whoops, fistpumping as Tyson shoves the french fry in his mouth. "Let's get _hitched_!" he crows.

Tyson loses his battle with not-laughing, but honestly? Worth it.

-0-

"So, like," Josty says. They're at Josty's place—or, Tyson mentally corrects, Josty's old place, since he's about to move into Tyson's spare room—and both Comphs and Kerf are conspicuously absent. "I'm absolutely not taking this bed with me. I know they've had sex on it at least twice, and I can and will crash on whatever's in your spare room until I can replace it."

Tyson makes a face. "You don't need the sheets either, right?"

"Nope," Josty confirms. He tosses a box of garbage bags at Tyson. "If you want to start putting clothes in those, I'll pack up some of the other stuff. Other than furniture, we should be able to get everything over to your place between your car and mine."

"Seriously?" Tyson asks, eyebrows going up. "That's kind of depressing, man."

Josty shrugs, apparently unconcerned. "Whatever," he says. "I'll buy some art for my new room if it makes you feel better."

"Buy some art," Tyson mutters, pulling out a garbage bag and shaking it to open it up. "Why am I marrying you?"

"Because you love me," Josty singsongs as he disappears into the closet. "Or you feel sorry enough for me to not ask Ghetto instead."

"I am not marrying Ghetto," Tyson says immediately as he opens a dresser drawer and starts dumping clothes from it into the bag.

"Yeah, no shit," Josty replies. "You're marrying me, and this isn't the state where you're allowed to marry more than one person at once."

Tyson snorts. "You can't do that anywhere."

Josty pops his head out of the closet and frowns. "Wait, no, there's a state where you can, for sure. There was a documentary about Mormons and shit."

"It's not actually legal," Tyson says, opening another drawer. "And Mormons don't actually marry multiple people. It's only, like, a few fringe groups, and everyone thinks they're the weird ones."

"How do you know this?" Josty asks, hanging a garment bag on his closet door.

"I actually paid attention to the documentary," Tyson says, rolling his eyes. "But I'm definitely not marrying Ghetto, no matter what else goes on." Sven's a cool dude, but Tyson's not interested in getting between him and whatever he's got going on with his on-again off-again girlfriend.

"Good to know," Josty says. "You're not marrying one of the new guys either, right? I don't have to, like, fight Calvert? I think he can take me, man, don't make me fight Calvert."

"I'm not marrying Calvert," Tyson says. He's going for annoyed, but he's pretty sure the way he's grinning is ruining it. "I'm marrying _you_ , idiot."

"You're fucking _what,_ " Tyson hears, and he turns to see Comphs standing in the doorway, looking in with possibly the most shocked expression Tyson's ever seen on a human.

Josty swings around and points a hanger at Comphs. "No, _you're_ fucking _Kerf_ ," he says. "So I'm marrying Brutes so I don't have to see it anymore, and also he gets to keep playing hockey, which I'm pretty sure everyone on the team will be happy about."

"What," Comphs repeats, gaze bouncing back and forth between Tyson and Josty. "What?"

"Surprise," Tyson adds, opening another drawer. "Oh, and you get to keep the bed, so congratulations?"

"I need a beer," Comphs says, not moving away from the door. "Shit. Where's Kerf?"

"I am definitely not the person in this household who would know that," Josty says. "How'd you lose your boyfriend?"

"I went for a run," Comphs says. " _I_ got Starbucks, and _you_ got engaged."

"What," someone yells from down the hallway.

"I found Kerf," Josty says cheerily.

Tyson snorts and goes back to emptying the dresser. Something tells him that this whole marriage thing is going to be incredibly chaotic, but chances are good that it will at least be the fun kind of chaos.

If nothing else, he reasons, at least he gets to keep hockey.

"So, wait," Kerf says, appearing in the doorway. He puts an arm around Comphs' waist like he's on autopilot, and Comphs leans into him. Tyson winces. Josty was right; he needs out of the honeymoon suite immediately if not sooner. "You guys are getting married? Because of the whole…" He gestures vaguely. "Thing?"

"We're madly and deeply in love, and we're eloping and you're not invited," Tyson deadpans. He looks at the drawer he just opened; it's socks, so he feels justified in taking the whole thing out and just dumping it into the bag. "Also, apparently you and Comphs can't keep your pants on until you're in your own room, so Josty appealed to a higher power."

"That was once," Kerf protests.

"That was at least twice," Josty corrects. "Dude. You're both like my brothers, and I'm super happy for you, but I'm also moving the fuck out right now."

"You guys could help," Tyson suggests. He leans over to tie the bag shut. "The sooner we get Josty's shit moved out of here, the sooner you can bone everywhere without the threat of someone walking in on you."

Kerf goes tomato red _incredibly_ fast, and Josty starts laughing, dropping his hanger. "Oh my god, that's a thing for you?" he asks, clearly delighted. " _Dude_."

"Shut up," Comphs says, pulling Kerf a little closer. "Everybody's got their shit, okay."

"I would love to hear all about your kinks, Jimothy Timothy, but you have a boyfriend and I'm about to have a husband," Josty says. "Our ship has sailed. Sorry, bud."

"Gross," Comphs says, making a face. "I already know way too much about your sex life. Please don't make me relive the memories."

"They hooked up," Kerf says in Tyson's general direction. "Like half a dozen times."

"Rude," Comphs says, elbowing Kerf in the side.

Josty shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. "If you want to share any tips and tricks, now's your chance, I guess."

"Gross," Comphs sais again, way more aggressively this time. He lets go of Kerf and steps into the room, looking around. "We'll help you move so we can get rid of you quicker. How's that sound?"

"Like a great plan," Tyson says, shoving the bag of clothing towards him. "C'mon, let's get this shit done."

-0-

"So," Josty says, jamming his hands in his pockets. It's windy in Denver, but that's not unusual for the end of September. It's still warm, at least, which is what Tyson is choosing to focus on instead of the fact that they're walking out of the Pepsi Center, matching rings on chains around their necks. "That was, uh…"

Tyson huffs out a laugh. "At least we didn't fistbump."

"The offer stands," Josty says, shooting Tyson a grin. "We could, like, come up with a secret handshake or something. A secret marriage handshake."

"I married you," Tyson says, letting all of the disbelief and resignation he's feeling bleed into his tone. "A _secret marriage handshake_ , oh my god."

Josty shrugs. "It would still be less lame than Barbs and Borque."

"Fair," Tyson concedes. "So, uh. We're definitely not celebrating this wedding the way most weddings are celebrated, but d'you want to get dinner or something?"

"I could eat," Josty says, like that's a revelation instead of just a sign of him being awake. "What do you want to get?"

Tyson shrugs. "I mean, we're dressed nice because of the whole, like, wedding. We could go somewhere nice and see if whoever's there knows who we are enough for us to name drop and get a table."

Josty snorts. "We're gonna end up at a Texas Roadhouse," he predicts. "Not what I thought my wedding dinner would be like, but honestly, as long as we get the onion crisp things, I won't even be mad."

"I think I can spring for those," Tyson says, grinning a little against his will. "Treating my husband. I think it's in the paperwork that I should do that from time to time."

"Aw, babe," Josty croons, turning to face Tyson with his hands clasped over his heart. "You're just gonna keep sweeping me off my feet, huh?"

"If you keep being a cheap date, then hell yeah I am," Tyson says. He tries to focus on Josty laughing at him, with him, instead of the satisfied look on Sakic's face as he'd told Tyson that he was making the responsible decision, the relieved way that Bednar had clapped him on the back and told him that he was glad Tyson would be sticking around. Josty's fun and funny, and he's not nearly as much of a slob as Tyson had kind of secretly worried about, and it's all going to be fine as long as Tyson ignores the fact that he's married to a guy he's not in love with.

Hockey, he reminds himself. And saving Josty's sanity, because when Kerf had taken his shirt off in the dressing room earlier there had been a line of dark hickeys bitten in a trail up his spine, and Tyson's willing to bet the house hasn't been quiet since Josty officially moved out.

"C'mon, big spender, let's get steak," Josty says, thankfully stopping that train of thought. "Don't let me get chili. Their chili isn't good but I'm always tempted anyway."

"Do you have some sort of secret chili ranking system I should be aware of?" Tyson asks, following as Josty starts walking again.

"Uh, yes," Josty says. "If it tastes like I could make it, it's garbage chili, because all I can do is the stuff out of a can. I expect better from a restaurant."

"Dude," Tyson says, frowning slightly. "You can't cook?"

Josty blinks at him as they reach Tyson's car. "Wait, you _can_?"

"I married you," Tyson repeats. "Holy shit, what the hell."

"Hey," Josty says indignantly. "Teach me, if you know so much about cooking."

"Maybe I will," Tyson retorts as they get into the car. "Chili is literally a crock pot full of stuff. You barely even have to stir it. You don't have to _measure_."

"Don't tell me I don't have to measure," Josty says immediately. "Kerf said that _once_."

It's incredibly ominous, and Tyson decides that he doesn't need to know. "We'll find a recipe," he says, starting the car. "You can just watch the first time, and we can get more complicated from there."

"Best husband," Josty says approvingly. "Man, this marriage is already working out. I'm gonna get chili that doesn't come out of a can."

"Not tonight, you aren't," Tyson says as he programs his GPS and starts heading for the nearest Texas Roadhouse. They're going to be hilariously overdressed, but whatever. He's kind of looking forward to the onion peels at this point. "We're going to get steak and you're not getting chili."

"Maybe I'll get the chili, just so when you make me real chili it'll be, like, a whole revelation," Josty says thoughtfully. "Lower the bar so far that anything will be better."

Tyson sniffs. "As if I can't knock your socks off without that."

"Oh, it's _on,_ Barrie," Josty says. "Now I expect to be wowed."

Tyson grins as he pulls out of the parking lot. "Challenge totally accepted."

"I'm not gonna settle for crap chili," Josty warns. "I will drag you in front of everyone on the team if you make me crap chili."

"You don't have to insult me," Tyson says. "You haven't even tried it. It's not crap; I don't make crap food."

"I'm gonna get Willy's opinion on that," Josty decides. "You've cooked for him before."

Tyson has; there was a hot second there where he and Willy had considered doing the wedding thing, but then Sammy had come along. Sammy had needed someone to ground him after the trade, and there's nobody more grounding than Willy with the possible exception of Soda, who is actual-married and also everybody's de facto dad. Tyson's still good friends with Willy, and he's totally sure that Willy will vouch for his cooking skills.

"Go for it," he says as they approach the Texas Roadhouse. "Prepare to be wowed, that's all I'm saying."

"We'll see," Josty says, but when Tyson looks over, he's grinning.

-0-

"So," Willy says, leaning on his stick. "Josty, eh?"

"Shut up, Connecticut," Tyson says immediately. "At least he's an adult."

Willy snorts. "Sammy knows how to make a bed. Does Josty know the difference between a fitted sheet and a top sheet?"

Tyson had, in fact, made the bed in what has become Josty's room while Josty unpacked his clothes into the dresser, so he can't actually answer that question. He has the feeling the answer wouldn't make him happy, anyway. "Whatever," he says, and Willy grins at him. "I can play, so I'm rolling with it."

Willy's face goes serious. "I'm glad you're still here," he says, low and earnest like he gets way too often for Tyson's wellbeing. "I was getting worried, man."

"Well, you fucked off and left me to fend for myself," Tyson says, forcing his tone to stay light as he bumps gently into Willy. "I had to start over with all those deep emotional bonds and shit."

"You married Josty," Willy says, voice dry. "You're telling me he's a deep emotional well now? When did that happen?"

"That's my husband you're insulting," Tyson says, narrowing his eyes. "Lay off."

Willy laughs and raises his hands, skating backwards a few feet. "Okay, okay," he says. "We should have dinner soon, the four of us. You and I can talk like adults while the kids play Mario Kart or whatever."

"That makes this whole thing sound way creepier than it is," Tyson says, making a face. "And it's sort of already creepy. Not helping."

Willy shrugs. "I don't think I was trying to help," he says. "We can bring wine and some sort of salad if you handle the main course."

"And dessert," Tyson adds. "I'm making lava cake."

"Oh, pulling out the big guns," Willy says. "You already married him, Tys. I don't think you have to woo him anymore."

"I'm glad I didn't marry you, you're a dick," Tyson says, swatting at Willy's calf with his stick. "Go be a forward somewhere away from me. I'm stealing your husband so we can run secret defenseman drills."

"You do that," Willy says, laughing as he skates away.

Sam just raises an eyebrow when Tyson skates over. "You know he's just doing it because he's worried about you," he says before Tyson can get a word in.

Tyson makes a face. "Don't be more emotionally mature than I am," he orders. "Also, you're invited over for a double date or whatever, and if you're mean to me I'm cutting off your supply of lava cake."

"You wouldn't dare," Sam says, and he's right, but Tyson doesn't have to let him know that.

"Don't try me," he says, going for threatening but ending up somewhere around pissy instead. He reaches out with his stick and steals the puck Sam had been batting around. "C'mon, get it back from me."

Sam sighs, but he starts skating with Tyson, and they play keepaway until the rest of the guys get out onto the ice. It's a good warmup before practice; Sam's a lot faster than Tyson is, but Tyson's a lot stronger, so it gives both of them something to work on when they battle for the puck.

Practice is fine; there's nothing really remarkable about it, except for how he doesn't have to have yet another awkward meeting with some lower management person about his whole marriage situation after it's over. He's not going to miss those, and he's pretty sure the management guys won't, either. The weird part comes when he's ready to leave and realises that he can't yet, because he and Josty drove in together and therefore have to leave together, but Josty takes approximately a thousand years to get ready to leave after practice, so Tyson's stuck sitting around and waiting until he shampoos his hair twice or whatever it is that takes him so long.

He's sort of expecting it and sort of not when Comphs sits heavily in the stall next to him. "Hey," Tyson says, nodding. "Is this the shovel talk, now that the shock has worn off?"

Comphs blinks. "It's a lot less fun when you point it out before I even get started."

"That's me, fun ruiner," Tyson says. "I promise not to break his heart with our completely platonic marriage. Can we skip to the part when I make fun of you for biting Kerf so hard that he's still bruised days after the fact?"

"No," Comphs says, voice serious even as his face goes red. "Just because you know what I'm here to say doesn't mean I'm not going to say it. Josty laughs a lot, okay, but shit gets to him. I know you're not in love with each other or whatever, but if he's not living with us, then he's gonna rely on you to notice and help him out with that."

"That's," Tyson says, frowning a little. "That's not a shovel talk. That's actually helpful, what the fuck."

"I'll also break your entire face if you hurt him," Comphs offers. "If that makes you feel better about this conversation."

"I can't even lie, it sort of does," Tyson admits. "All I have to offer in return is to not bite Kerf anywhere that's gonna keep him from skating, because dude, we need him."

Comphs laughs. "If you think I haven't figured out exactly where I can and can't bite by now—"

"Okay," Tyson says loudly, and Comphs laughs again, harder this time. "Nice talk! Nice talk. I'm gonna go be literally anywhere else."

"I don't want to know, do I?" Kerf asks, appearing out of almost nowhere beside Comphs. He runs his hand through Comphs' hair, and for all Tyson and the rest of the team have been ragging them about all the PDA and sappy shit they've got going on, it's easy to see how real and solid their connection is as Comphs leans into him. Maybe they'll get to get married without all of the bullshit Tyson's going through, his brain supplies a little bitterly.

"You don't," Tyson says instead of vocalizing any of that. "Your boyfriend is gross. Helpful, but gross."

"Just the way I like him," Kerf says, grinning.

"Oh god, it's contagious," Tyson says, leaning away. "Leave before you infect me. I have a husband to think about now."

"Aw, babe," Josty croons from across the locker room. He's toweling his hair dry before bothering to put on a single stitch of clothing; this is Tyson's life now, he thinks, and it's not even in resignation. God help him, he's already used enough to everything that he's just sort of vaguely fond and amused.

"Put some pants on, Josty, jesus," Tyson calls back anyway. "Stop sharing the goods."

Josty laughs and shakes his very naked hips, which makes almost everyone left in the dressing room groan or throw shit at him, and—yeah, Tyson thinks. Sure. This isn't how he pictured things going down, but it could be a lot worse.

-0-

"Oh my god, marry me," Josty says.

Tyson rolls his eyes. "You can't marry chili, bud," he says, biting back a grin. "And, like, you might have forgotten this, but you already married me, and it was less than two weeks ago, so I'm not in a rush to renew our vows or whatever." Not that they'd had vows; it had been almost clinical, the way they'd just signed the paperwork and been given rings and sent out the door.

"I don't care," Josty declares. He's staring down into his bowl of chili, and he looks like he's just discovered religion. "This is the best chili I've ever eaten in my life."

Tyson preens a little; whatever, Josty's never breaking eye contact with his chili again, so it's not like he'll notice. "I told you it was good."

"I'm not even gonna chirp you for being smug, that's how good this is," Josty informs him. "Do you cook everything this good, or is chili the top of the list here?"

"I told you, I can cook," Tyson says. "I don't have the time for anything that's really involved, but I'm decent."

"Oh my god," Josty says again, this time a little dreamily. "Fuck whatever Sammy says, I for sure win the husband challenge."

Tyson snorts. "The what now?"

It gets Josty to finally look up from his chili, and he laughs. "Nothing," he says, shaking his head. "Just something dumb. Sammy said that he was glad he ended up with Willy, because Willy's a catch. I told him that I was pretty sure you and I would be fine, and he said that Willy was the clear winner."

"Two things," Tyson says, holding up two fingers. "One, that's super fucking rude, and I'm gonna put shaving cream in Sammy's shoes next practice. And two, he's probably right. Willy's a goddamn catch."

"Willy did not make this chili, so Willy loses," Josty says. "I'm not taking criticism on my decisions right now, so shut up and take the compliment."

Tyson laughs and feels red rising in his cheeks, but he resolutely ignores it. "That's some pretty aggressive complimenting there, bud."

"Deal with it," Josty says before shoving a truly gross amount of chili into his mouth. Thankfully he swallows before going on. "Is this what you're making when Sammy and Willy come over?"

"Uh," Tyson says, blinking a little. "I mean, probably not. They're bringing salad and wine, so I'll probably do, like, steak and potatoes."

"Steak," Josty says, eyes going wide. "The only time I tried to make steak, it was like chewing on shoe leather. I don't know how it got that way."

"Going out on a limb here and guessing you cooked the shit out of it," Tyson says. "You have to time it."

"I put a timer on," Josty says indignantly.

Tyson raises an eyebrow. "Did you check how long that timer should be for, or did you just guess?"

"I googled!" Josty says. He hesitates, then shrugs and smiles in a way that's starting to get really familiar to Tyson. "I mean, I googled, but the instructions were for a smaller steak than we had, so I multiplied."

Tyson sighs and puts his hand over his face, mostly so Josty won't see the grin breaking across his face. "That's not how it works."

"I mean, I figured that out," Josty says. "Seriously. It was so tough that we couldn't actually eat it. We tried to give it to Nate's dogs, but he got mad and said that we couldn't just give his dogs garbage."

Tyson snickers. "He's particular," he says. "Okay, so next I'll wow you with steak, I guess. Meals can get kind of boring during the season, but that's because I get lazy. If you get bored of chicken and rice, we can talk about options or something."

"Every single pre-game meal I ate last year came out of the freezer," Josty admits with nothing like shame; Tyson wonders briefly if Josty would know what shame even was if he ever felt it. "Even if it's the same exact chicken and rice before every game, it has to be better if it's fresh, right?"

"I hope so," Tyson says with a grimace. "I have a standard to uphold here."

Josty shoves another scoop of chili into his mouth and chews quickly. "I don't think it's a compliment if I say that my standards are pretty low, so you probably don't have to try very hard."

"It makes me less confident about how good the chili actually is," Tyson agrees. "Maybe I'll try less hard next time, though."

Josty puts his arm around his bowl and pulls it in like he's trying to hug it. "As long as the chili stays this good, I promise I won't complain."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Tyson says.

Josty nods. "Probably fair," he acknowledges. "So, like. I don't want to make things weird."

Tyson narrows his eyes a little. "You know that just sets things up to be weird, right?"

"Yeah," Josty says, shrugging. "But at least you know, so it's not surprise weird."

Tyson blinks. "Fair," he concedes. "Okay, I'm braced. Hit me with it."

"So before the house became, like, the Love Shack, we had roommate nights," Josty says. "It was usually just fighting over a movie and then watching whatever ended up winning, and then, uh."

"And then," Tyson prods when Josty doesn't go on.

Josty sighs and leans back in his chair, finally letting go of the chili bowl as he looks up at the ceiling. "So I'm a handsy person, and I would usually go crash with one of them for the night after movie night," he says, not looking at Tyson. "Which is not what I'm asking for! But if we could do, like, a movie with some slight cuddling, I'd… I'd like that."

"Slight cuddling," Tyson echoes. "What counts as slight cuddling?"

"Like, I sit next to you and our legs are touching," Josty says. His whole face is red. "Or you sit on one side of the sofa and I lay down and put my feet on your lap. Something like that. Just… touching."

Tyson opens his mouth to chirp, but suddenly he's got Comphs in his head, a combination of _break your entire face if you hurt him_ and _he's gonna rely on you_. "We can make that work," he says after a split second's hesitation. "I can definitely guarantee a fight over movie choices, at least."

"As long as you don't want to watch Planet Earth for the millionth time, I'll probably give in pretty easily," Josty says, finally tipping his head up so he can shoot Tyson a relieved-looking grin. "Really? You don't mind? I know it's kind of weird."

Tyson shrugs. "So you like cuddling," he says. "Whatever. I do too."

Josty's grin broadens until it takes up his entire face. "Awesome," he declares. "Y'know what, I think this marriage is gonna work out."

"I'm glad you approve," Tyson says dryly, but he's grinning, too.

-0-

Tyson's starting the grill when he hears the doorbell ring, but before he can do anything, he hears Josty moving around inside. "I got it!"

There's a slight commotion inside that Tyson refuses to let himself be worried about, and then a moment later Willy is walking out onto the porch. "Hey," he says lightly. "Josty grabbed Sam and yanked him down the hallway, and I was told I'm not allowed to follow. Any idea what that's about?"

Tyson groans. "Something about a competition," he says. "I think they're arguing over which one of us is a better husband."

Willy blinks, then starts laughing. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah," Tyson says, shaking his head and fiddling with the knobs on the grill. "I told Josty that there's no actual competition there, because clearly you're the catch here, but I don't think he knows how to let a competition go."

WIlly's laugh cuts out kind of abruptly. "Wait, you told him he lost the husband competition?"

Tyson looks up and is surprised to find Willy frowning at him. "I mean," he says, gesturing between them kind of vaguely. "Yes?"

"Tyson," Willy says, and it's the _I'm Your Friend, Listen To Me_ voice that usually makes Tyson feel like he's been hit by the world's nicest two-by-four. "Why would you think you're not a good husband?"

"Uh," Tyson says, glancing around, but Josty hasn't appeared out of nowhere to save him from this conversation. If only marriage actually came with psychic powers, like his mom had told him when he was little and wondering how his parents just _knew_ what the other one was thinking. "I mean, of the two of us—"

"No," Willy cuts in, gentle but firm. "Don't do that. Rule number one of marriage is that you don't ever judge your own against someone else's."

Tyson blinks at him. "We're not, like, for-real married," he says slowly, because he's pretty sure Willy knows that, but he's treating this like it's real.

"Doesn't matter," Willy says firmly. "Sam and I are totally platonic, too, but our marriage isn't going to look like yours. You're not me, and Sam isn't Josty. Everyone's different, and that means that everyone's marriage is different, too. There's no winning or losing, because everybody's playing a different game, and that's just how it goes, okay?"

This time when Tyson blinks, it's because he's a little misty-eyed. Damn the smoke from the grill, or whatever. "See, if you and I had gotten married, I'd have to deal with this life-enlightening shit all the time," he chokes out. "I dodged a bullet there."

"And I don't have to deal with your aversion to laundry," Willy says, smiling gently. "We both win, I think."

"Sure, sure," Tyson says, turning back to the grill. Willy can definitely tell that he's wiping at his face, but he's way too nice to say anything about it.

"Hey," Tyson hears, and sure, great, _now_ is when Josty decides to come rescue him. Sure enough, Josty nudges him in the side, and Tyson glances over into his concerned expression. "Willy, what the fuck did you say?"

"That maybe this whole competition you guys have going on should stop," Willy says, somehow mild and completely unquestionable at the same time. "Like, maybe immediately."

Josty puts an arm around Tyson's waist and tugs him in briefly before turning towards Willy. Tyson can't see the expression on his face, but he thinks there's some guilt in Josty's tone. "I told him he'd win!"

"I'm sure he would in some areas, and I would in others," Willy says agreeably. "And it'd be the same with you guys. And I'm even more sure that that's a shitty competition that's only going to make people feel bad, so maybe we shouldn't go there."

Sammy sighs from somewhere behind Willy. "It was just something fun and silly," he says. "But we can stop. Right, Josty?"

"Yes," Josty says immediately. He still has his arm wrapped around Tyson's waist. "We'll stop."

"Okay," Willy says, and it's not the first time Tyson has pictured him as a teacher, gently guiding the rest of them to the right conclusions, but it's the first time Tyson thinks that maybe he should tell Willy he has an actual gift for, like, getting people to understand things. Everybody needs a life after hockey eventually.

"We'll go set the table," Sammy adds. "You guys just… take care of the steaks, yeah?"

It's a kind of blatant play to give Tyson and Josty a second, which Tyson's not sure they need, but Josty still hasn't budged from Tyson's side. "Thanks," Tyson says, and his voice is steady, at least. "We'll be in to help you shortly."

"Take your time," Willy says, not even pretending that he's not giving them space. "I'll open the wine to let it breathe, and we'll see you when the steaks are done."

"Dude," Josty says quietly when Willy and Sammy have gone inside. Tyson tries not to brace himself for whatever Josty's about to say, but he probably fails. "Why the fuck does wine need to _breathe_?"

Tyson laughs, surprised, and the tension eases out of him. "Never change," he says. "Or, like, change your position a little bit to the right, because I actually do have to put the steaks on."

Josty laughs a little and drops his arm, taking a few steps back. "I didn't know it bothered you."

"I didn't either," Tyson says, shrugging a little. "Not until Willy and I started talking about it, at least. And I don't know if it really bothered me, but Willy's pretty good at figuring shit like that out, so if he thinks it's a bad plan then we should probably cut it out."

"You're crying a little, though," Josty points out, and when Tyson looks at him, he's still got that concerned look on his face.

Tyson waves his hand around. "I have emotions," he says. "Usually pretty obvious ones. I'm okay."

"Okay," Josty says. "But, like. If shit bothers you, you should tell me, okay? I know this is, like, a fake marriage or whatever, but the point of it according to the team is that you have somebody to talk to." He smiles a little crookedly. "It's not a competition anymore, okay, but I still want to be the best I can at this."

"Okay," Tyson says. He turns back to the grill so he can lay the steaks out. "I'll talk to you if something gets under my skin. You too, got it?"

"Got it," Josty says. "Hey, Tys?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not a competition, but you're still the best," Josty says, too sincere in a way Tyson can't identify. He doesn't add anything else, and it's… it's just a lot.

Tyson swallows. "Thanks," he says. "You too."

-0-

The season starts well; everything's clicking and it feels like they're steamrolling their way through the league. It's a weird kind of almost-magic, the polar opposite of the bad year, and Tyson feels like every stride he takes on home ice is another little bit of distance between himself and that disaster in his rearview. The Pepsi Center is pumped, too, with fans screaming at every game, chanting for the team and for saves, and it's awesome.

And then, as they're lighting Ottawa up, Josty goes down.

"Brutes," Nate says, his giant hand clenched around Tyson's knee. "Focus."

Tyson would love to, honestly, but that's his husband out there, looking like he can't remember the make and model of the bus that ran him down. "Fucking _Ottawa_ ," he seethes.

"Yeah, well, we're fucking them up on the scoreboard, and you will die if you try to fight," Nate says as Josty's helped up off the ice. Tyson twists as he skates slowly to the bench, and he shoots Tyson a weak smile before disappearing down the hallway. "Tys, buddy. You need to breathe, and you need to finish this game, and if you can't do that—"

"I can do that," Tyson cuts in. "I'm good, I'm fine."

He's neither of those things and Nate absolutely knows it, but he nods anyway and pulls his hand back. "Score for him," he says, nodding at the ice.

"Yeah," Tyson says, gripping his stick tightly as he stands up to head over the boards for the line change. "I will."

Tyson doesn't score, but it doesn't matter; the game is over in a blur, another win that he'll be way happier about later, and he's down the tunnel almost the second the buzzer sounds. There's every chance that he's one of the stars of the game, but he does not care at all, and he doubts anyone's gonna blame him for it.

"Hey," Tyson says, bursting into the locker room. "Where's—"

"Shower," Socks, their head athletic trainer, says firmly.

"Socks," Tyson whines. "I just want to make sure he's okay."

Socks sighs. "He's going to be," he says, which is about the best thing Tyson could've hoped for, probably, but still makes his stomach twist. "You need to shower before you go in to see him, Barrie. That's non-negotiable."

Part of Tyson wants to stay and argue, but he knows it's useless, and the faster he showers the faster Socks will get out of his way. He nods tightly and shoves his way into the locker room, already pulling his jersey over his head.

He showers as quickly as he can and pulls on the first clothes he yanks out of his bag after drying off. Most of the other guys are in the locker room, undressing at a normal pace, but Tyson catches Comphs' eye.

"You've got this," Comphs says, less like a question, more like an order. "Just remind him that he's gonna be fine."

"He is," Tyson says, heading for the hallway. "He'd better be, or I'm burning the entire city of Ottawa to the ground."

EJ snorts. "This is definitely what they had in mind when they implemented the marriage program."

"Like you're any better," Tyson says, not stopping.

"Hell no," EJ agrees. "Sorry to tell you this, buddy, but it actually gets a lot worse over time."

"Looking forward to it," Tyson says as he walks out of the locker room.

Socks is standing in the hallway, and he nods when Tyson steps out. "This way."

Tyson follows him a little ways down the hallway and into one of the training rooms. The lights are dim, but Tyson can see Josty laying on the table, hands folded over his stomach. He turns to give Tyson a tired smile when he walks in. "Hey."

"Shit," Tyson mutters, reaching out without thinking about it. Josty reaches back, though, taking Tyson's hand and squeezing it. "Concussion?"

Josty shrugs minutely. "Hell of a headache, that much I can tell you for sure."

"We think it's a mild concussion," Socks says. "Probably a few games, probably not more."

"But it's a concussion, so you can't be sure," Tyson fills in. He squeezes Josty's hand. "Your head hurts?"

"Yeah," Josty mutters, closing his eyes. "But I only bruised my brain a little, so it'll be fine."

Tyson grits his teeth and doesn't squeeze Josty's hand as hard as he wants to. "You'll be fine," he says, because he believes it and because he's pretty sure Comphs will know and will also murder him if he doesn't. He turns to Socks. "Just the normal concussion protocol stuff, or is there something else I should be looking out for?"

"No, the normal stuff will cover it," Socks replies. "Bring him back in the morning so we can check him out again, and you have my number if anything happens after you leave."

"Yeah," Tyson says, focusing back on Josty. "Hey, babe? Can you walk with me to the car, or should I get Comphs in here to help?"

"He'll be so grumpy," Josty says, smiling faintly. "Don't make him carry me."

"I can and I will," Tyson says firmly. "Whatever you need."

"Nah, I'm okay," Josty says. He takes a deep breath, then opens his eyes. "I'm not dizzy. It just aches."

"Okay," Tyson says, nodding. "Hang out here and I'll bring the car to the door, okay? And then I'll come back in and help you out."

Josty squeezes his hand, then lets go. "Thanks, Tys."

"Yeah," Tyson says, swallowing thickly as he looks down at Josty, face almost ghastly pale under the dim training room light. "Of course."

-0-

Josty misses four games, and they lose every single one of them. It's awful, if Tyson's being honest, and the worst part isn't even the losing, it's going on a three-game road trip pretty much the second Josty gets injured and not being able to check in the whole time because Josty's avoiding screen time and noise in the hopes that it'll help his head.

Thankfully, things even out soon after, and by the time they're in their hotel in Anaheim in the middle of November, fresh off a win over the Ducks, Tyson's enjoying the hell out of all the winning again. It means he doesn't protest when Josty puts on _The A-Team_ in their hotel room for at least the tenth time since they started their movies-and-cuddling thing; instead, Tyson just rolls his eyes and lays down on his bed. Josty curls up against him, head on Tyson's chest and one leg thrown over Tyson's knee, and predictably, he's out cold in less than twenty minutes.

There's a knock on the door about halfway through the movie; Tyson's not sure why he keeps letting it play, since he has no desire to actually be able to recite it line by line, but he lets it keep going as he eases his way out from under Josty and walks to the door. He peeks through the peephole and sees Nate standing there, so he checks to make sure he has his keycard in his pocket before opening the door and stepping out.

"Hey," Nate says, eyebrows going up. "Uh. How's it going?"

"Good," Tyson says, giving Nate a smile. "What's up, man?"

Nate shrugs and eyes the hotel room door. "Are we in the hallway for a reason, or…"

"Josty fell asleep during _The A-Team_ ," Tyson says, shaking his head. "Again."

Nate snorts. "Okay, well," he says, glancing back down the hallway. "Can we hang for a little while? My room's free."

"Sure," Tyson says, following Nate down the hallway. "Hey, is everything okay? You seem kinda… down."

Nate shrugs as he unlocks his door. "It's dumb."

"That doesn't mean you can't tell me," Tyson says as they walk in. "C'mon, man. You were there when I sliced my leg open wrestling with Marns at Worlds."

"I was," Nate says, grinning for a moment before it slides off his face. "I don't know, man. It just seems like I haven't talked to you in forever. You went and married Josty, and now it's like there's this Tysons Only club, and…"

"Wait, no, no way," Tyson says, alarmed. "You're always allowed in the Tysons Only club. You're an honourary Tyson."

Nate snorts. "I'm gonna go with 'no thanks' on that one, actually."

"Dude," Tyson says. "Just because I'm married doesn't mean I don't want best friend time."

"Okay," Nate says, sounding unconvinced. "So we can watch something and talk and whatever?"

"As long as it's not _The A-Team_ ," Tyson says. "I've had enough of that one."

" _Parks and Rec_ ," Nate offers. "And I really need to talk about boy problems, I'm just warning you now."

"My offer to fly to Montreal and punch Jo in the face still stands," Tyson says firmly.

Nate rolls his eyes. "You still can't do that. And not during a game, either; I don't care how much of an accident you can make it look like."

"A big accident," Tyson reminds him, which probably isn't true, but he's been saying it for long enough now that he knows his line here. "Give me Leslie and give me deets."

"Okay," Nate says. "Since you asked so nicely."

 _Parks and Rec_ remains _Parks and Rec_ , which is to say that it's perfect in every way while remaining easy to ignore as background noise as Nate pours his heart out. Tyson doesn't actually want to fight Jo Drouin, and he mostly thinks the guy doesn't deserve it even if he brings up the possibility a lot; everything Nate's saying now sounds like something that'll work itself out, time and distance and hockey all conspiring against them. The first time it had happened Tyson had done everything he could think of to help, but it hadn't been needed in the end, and when it had rolled around the next year, he'd been smart enough to say all the right supportive best friend things while keeping himself firmly out of it, and sure enough, things had been fine after a week or so. It's an annual tradition at this point, so Tyson nods and pats Nate's arm and offers sympathy in all the right places.

"It just sucks," Nate finally says dejectedly.

"I know, bud," Tyson says. He's seen it happen enough that he absolutely does know, too. "I'm sorry it's so shitty."

"I used to wish we were on the same team," Nate says, smiling a little. "At least then we'd be able to have new and different problems."

Tyson laughs. "One of you could switch to defense, and then you could get married and have a whole other set of problems."

Nate rolls his eyes. "We could get married anyway, duh. There's no rule against forwards getting together."

"True," Tyson acknowledges. "Good thing I didn't develop some kind of huge crush on EJ, then. We'd have to fight for who got to stay on defense, and I don't like losing."

Nate laughs, his big, loud laugh. "You'd have to fight Gabe, too, and I think you'd lose twice."

"I'm better off with Josty," Tyson says, nodding. "I didn't need to fight anyone for him."

Nate shifts on the bed. "How's that whole thing going?"

"Fine," Tyson says, shrugging. "His taste in movies is abysmal and he can't cook, but he's decent at remembering to do laundry before he runs out of socks, so he's got me beat there."

"Aw, you complement each other," Nate says, grinning. "And, like. It's… uh."

"It sure is," Tyson deadpans when Nate doesn't elaborate. "Spit it out."

"It's platonic?" Nate asks. "Still?"

Tyson blinks. "Yeah," he says. "Why would you think it wasn't?"

Nate shrugs but doesn't look away. "You guys are closer," he says. "And, like, I know you'll cuddle with anyone who doesn't run away fast enough, but now he's your go-to."

"He's actually more of a cuddler than I am, if you can believe that," Tyson says. "And getting closer is the whole point of this thing, right? Defensemen bond with forwards, team harmony, blah blah."

"It's not a bad thing," Nate says. His grin is a lot softer. "You're allowed to like the guy, man. You married him."

"It's still platonic," Tyson says. "Thanks for checking, I guess, but nothing has changed since we got married."

"Okay," Nate says, and his willingness to believe Tyson on the important things is one of the reasons they're best friends. "Let's watch more _Parks and Rec_."

"Let's," Tyson agrees, leaning forward to grab the remote so he can turn the volume up.

-0-

"Hey, so," Josty says, hesitating in the entrance of the living room. "I kind of… did a thing?"

Tyson glances over at him. "Are you going to get arrested for it?"

"What? No!" Josty frowns at him. "I did something _nice_."

"Oh," Tyson says. "Nice? That's… good?"

Josty sighs and rolls his eyes, walking in to drop onto the sofa by Tyson's side. Tyson lifts his arm automatically, and Josty snuggles right into his side. "I was gonna do, like, dinner reservations somewhere nice," he says. "But then I remembered that you don't actually like going out if we have to dress up for it, so that would be not as nice as I wanted it to be."

"Okay," Tyson says. He's pretty sure he's allowed to feel as bewildered as he does right now. "So the nice thing is that you didn't make us reservations?"

"No," Josty says. "Or, like, yes. But I also remembered that you like the pasta sauce at North Italia even though you're kinda picky about pasta sauce, so I ordered takeout."

"You ordered… fancy takeout," Tyson says. "I'm super here for fancy takeout, but I'm not sure why we're doing fancy takeout."

Josty digs his chin into Tyson's shoulder. "We've been married for two whole months without once trying to kill each other," he says. "That's worth celebrating with fancy takeout, and also, if you think I'm not the kind of person who celebrates every single thing that could be called an anniversary, then whoa _buddy_ do I have a thing to tell you."

Tyson snorts. "We didn't celebrate at one month," he points out.

"I took your car to the car wash," Josty replies. "Little things, Barrie, c'mon."

Tyson opens his mouth and closes it again. "I didn't do anything for you," he ventures, and now he's starting to feel like kind of an asshole about not celebrating something that he didn't realise he was supposed to be celebrating.

"You can make it up to me with lava cake," Josty replies. "At any time, seriously. I'd say I would murder a man for lava cake, but honestly, I'm pretty sure I can trade laundry for it and everything will be fine at this point."

"Yeah, please don't murder anyone," Tyson agrees. "We're back to 'are you gonna get arrested,' and I don't want to spend the rest of our marriage here."

Josty laughs, and Tyson can feel it against his neck. It makes goosebumps rise on his arms, but if Josty notices, he doesn't say anything. "I promise to try really hard to not get arrested," he says. "Pinky swear."

Tyson holds his hand up immediately, pinky out. It's kind of awkward to actually maneuver the pinky swear, since Josty doesn't seem to want to budge in the slightest, but they manage it anyway. "Solid," Tyson says. "So is the food coming soon, or…"

"It should be," Josty says, still not moving. "Kerf texted me, like, fifteen minutes ago."

Tyson frowns slightly. "Is Kerf coming to our two-month anniversary dinner?"

"Ew, no," Josty says. There's a movement against Tyson's shoulder that he's come to know as Josty wrinkling his nose. "He's dropping our food off."

"Okay," Tyson says slowly. "Gonna tell me why?"

Josty laughs, and it sounds a little off in a way that Tyson can't put his finger on. "Because I asked him to?"

It's as clear a deflection as Tyson's ever heard; he's curious as hell, but he also knows a boundary when he sees one. "Okay," he says agreeably, rubbing his thumb gently against Josty's shoulder. "So he'll be here in, what, another ten minutes?"

"Yeah," Josty says, and something in him relaxes when Tyson lets it go. "He said traffic on 25 actually wasn't a nightmare for once."

"An anniversary miracle," Tyson says cheerfully. "I guess we're blessed now or something."

"Hashtag blessed," Josty says, perking up a little. "Oh man, I'm gonna Insta our food and just 'hashtag blessed' it."

"Does that make you basic?" Tyson asks, frowning a little. "I don't know if I understand the rules, but I think that makes you basic."

"You married me, that means you have to put up with my basic ass," Josty says, finally pulling away from Tyson when his phone buzzes.

Tyson bites his lip hard so the first thing that jumps into his head doesn't also jump out of his mouth, which is that Josty's ass is anything but _basic_ no matter how they're defining it. Josty seems too involved with his phone to notice Tyson's little crisis of mouth, so he's got a moment to get his whole face under control before Josty looks back up at him. "It's Kerf," he says. "You want to set the table or go grab the food from him?"

"I'll get the food," Tyson replies, standing. "Then I can thank Kerf for helping us celebrate this very important anniversary."

"So important," Josty agrees, giving him a brilliant smile before getting off the sofa and walking into the kitchen.

Tyson takes a deep breath that he's not sure why he needs as he walks towards the door. It's proximity, he thinks, the fact that he and Josty are always together now, and this nice thing Josty is doing, and thinking about how he's going to have to plan something big and dumb for three months because hey, that's a whole quarter of a year, and that makes it a big deal. The fact that he's never really cared about minor anniversaries before is irrelevant, because Josty cares, so by extension, that means Tyson cares now.

"Hey," Kerf greets when Tyson meets him in the driveway. "Happy anniversary, I guess?"

"Thanks," Tyson says, reaching out so Kerf can hand over the bag with the food in it. "And thanks for getting the food and bringing it down. Josty wouldn't tell me why, but, like. Thanks anyway."

Kerf opens his mouth, then frowns a little bit before closing it again. "You're welcome," he says, tone kind of cautious. "He didn't tell you?"

"No?" Tyson asks, frowning back. "I asked, but he seemed kind of weird about it, so I let it go."

"Okay," Kerf says, and that's a whole lot of judgement for two syllables. "Well, enjoy your food, and tell Tys I said he should get his shit together better."

"Hey," Tyson says indignantly. "He's fine."

Kerf gives him a long look. "Okay," he says again in the exact same tone of voice, but this time it's definitely directed at Tyson, not Josty. "Maybe, like, use your words? More words."

"Which words?" Tyson asks. He'd throw his hands in the air, but he doesn't want to drop the food.

"All of them," Kerf shoots back. "Also, you deserve each other."

"I'm going inside now," Tyson decides when Kerfy doesn't explain that, either. "Thanks for the food, no thanks for the cryptic commentary."

"I do what I can," Kerf says, waving and getting back into his car.

"What the fuck," Tyson mutters, staring down at the food.

The food, predictably but unhelpfully, doesn't answer.

-0-

"So Kerf was being weird when he dropped the food off," Tyson says.

Dinner was really good, not that Tyson had been expecting otherwise, and now they're back on the sofa, _Community_ playing on the television while they do their usual post-food cuddling thing. Josty is sprawled out across the sofa with his head in Tyson's lap, facing the television, but Tyson's paying enough attention to see the quick expression that flits across his face before he turns to look up at Tyson. "Weird how?"

"He said to tell you to get your shit together better, and then he told me that we should use all of our words," Tyson says. "And then he was really judgy about telling me that we deserve each other."

Josty snorts. "The whole thing wasn't really judgy? That's, like, character growth or some shit."

"Oh, no, it was," Tyson says. "It was extra judgy on that, though."

"Great," Josty says, sighing a little. Tyson can feel it in his thighs, the way it makes Josty's whole body shift. "He's being nosy. You can ignore him."

"I can and I will to his face," Tyson says, looking down into Josty's face. His eyes are warm, face open, and Tyson lets himself think for the first time about how good-looking he actually is. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but I know he knows something I don't know, and I would love to know what that is."

Josty moves his head a little, like he'd be tilting it if he wasn't still laying in Tyson's lap. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"If you're sure you want to tell me," Tyson says, heart in his throat. 

"Tys," Josty says quietly. He hasn't looked away from Tyson once this whole conversation, and Tyson has no idea how he's doing it, since Tyson's barely saying anything and he feels like he might be on the verge of panicking. Josty looks up at him, hint of a smile on his face, and sighs. "You have to know I'm, like, actually into you by now, right?"

"You," Tyson says. It's what he'd been expecting, with the few parts of him that had dared to expect anything, and it's a rush of relief even as it starts a whole new part of him teetering on the edge of panic. "You are?"

"I am," Josty confirms. He's maybe the bravest person Tyson's ever met, since he doesn't look like he's even slightly considering bolting for the nearest mountain to live out the rest of his life as a hermit, never having to face any of this again. "You don't have to, like, do anything with that knowledge. Just because we're married doesn't mean you have to be into me."

Tyson snorts. "That's usually the point."

"Yeah, but it's not here and we both know it," Josty replies, not taking the bait. "You married me because you had to marry someone, and I offered because it was a quick way out of walking in on my two best friends banging like a screen door in a tornado."

Tyson blinks. "That's descriptive."

"Loudly and without ever stopping," Josty replies, snickering.

"Gross," Tyson says, making a face. Josty keeps laughing, and it gives Tyson a chance to process. Josty still seems totally at ease, and sure, they're completely different people, but Tyson can't even start to understand how he can keep so calm. "You're, um. Calmer than I would be after saying that."

Josty shrugs one shoulder. "You've met me," he says. "I fall for people, like, super quickly all the time. If I got nervous every time I thought about telling someone I was into them when I didn't know if they liked me back, I'd pretty much never stop feeling sick."

"Huh," Tyson says. "And that's what Kerf was being weird about?"

"I mean, probably, but he's a weird guy," Josty offers. "I asked him to grab the food tonight so I could spend more time hanging out with you."

"We hang out all the time," Tyson says.

Josty's eyes crinkle a little as he smiles. "Yeah, well. It's not always an anniversary."

"Not with that attitude," Tyson says, and Josty's laughing, tilting his head back against Tyson's leg and showing off the long column of his neck, so when Tyson leans down to kiss him, there's a weird moment where he just sort of hits Josty's chin instead of his mouth.

Josty stops laughing and tilts his head back down sharply, and their lips brush before Tyson sits halfway back up. He's just—looking, he thinks, every feeling he's been holding back about Josty's face and his laugh and the feelings he makes bloom in Tyson's chest bubbling up all at the same time. Josty's eyes are wide and his mouth is open a little, the picture of surprise, and Tyson wants to kiss him again but he also doesn't want to strain his back.

"Sit up?" he asks, voice quieter than he'd meant it to be, but Josty practically scrambles upright, and Tyson doesn't know if he leans in or if Josty does, but they definitely don't miss on their second attempt at a kiss.

It's warm in a way that has nothing to do with their shared body heat, soft but nowhere near hesitant. Josty kisses him like he knows what he's after and Tyson kisses back in kind, and there's a little thrill in the back of Tyson's head as he thinks about the fact that he's kissing his _husband_ , right there on the sofa in their living room.

Josty eventually pulls away, but Tyson thinks it's more about the way he's looking at Tyson with wide-eyed wonder than anything else. "Whoa."

"Whoa," Tyson agrees, smiling a little helplessly. "So I'm into you? Too?"

Josty grins. "Did you just figure that out?"

"Maybe," Tyson says, tilting his chin up because he knows it'll make Josty laugh. "I mean, no, but I maybe didn't admit it to myself before right now."

"We're idiots, and we're not thanking Kerf for this," Josty says, sounding adamant about both points.

"Oh, no chance in hell," Tyson agrees readily, and it makes Josty laugh again, which is something Tyson thinks he's going to enjoy getting used to.

-0-

Tyson would never admit it, not out loud, but he really loves American Thanksgiving. It's a holiday dedicated to food, and it always means a few days off; it's also a chance to show off a little, because everyone wants turkey and lava cake, and Tyson never fails to deliver.

"Can I just say," Josty says, surveying the kitchen table, "that I had no idea you were the one who made the turkey?"

"Who did you think made the turkey?" Tyson asks. He's counting ramekins again, because the last thing he wants is to not have enough to make everyone a cake. Last year had almost ended in a fistfight, and Tyson never wants to have to make apology lava cake again.

"I kinda figured it was catered," Josty says, shrugging. "I mean, last year Landy told us to bring rolls and soda, so we just went to Safeway and got the biscuits in a can and a bunch of Coke. I didn't think anything even remotely like real cooking happened."

"I remember the Coke," Tyson says, stepping back from the box with the ramekins in it. There are four more than he thinks he needs, which probably means it'll be just enough, and he'll deal with it if it's not. "There was a whole thing about us playing at the Pepsi Center and you guys bringing Coke."

"Coke is objectively better," Josty says, shrugging unapologetically. "I'm glad Pepsi's a sponsor or whatever, but I don't want to drink it."

"Fair enough, I guess," Tyson says. He glances back into the kitchen, but he's pretty sure everything they need is on the table, ready to go into the car. "Help me load all this up?"

Josty makes a noise, and when Tyson turns, he's frowning a little. "Hey, wait. Are you, like, stressed about this?"

Tyson squints at the turkey; there's probably enough foil on it, but he's had it spill before, and his car had smelled like turkey for long after he wanted it to. "I mean, maybe a little," he says. "It should be perfect, y'know?"

"And it totally will be," Josty says, taking a step towards him. "And if it isn't, we'll blame Comphs and Kerf. I'm sure we can find a reason to."

Tyson snorts. "You ever think the reason they had sex in your bed is because you antagonised the shit out of them, and it was some sort of payback?"

"Probably," Josty says, shrugging. He's close enough now that he can reach out and take Tyson's hand. "It might also be because I casually dropped in the group chat that they were in love with each other and should do something about it because the sex eyes were getting to be a little too much, but honestly, there are probably multiple reasons."

It makes Tyson laugh enough that his shoulders loosen a little, and Josty smiles, looking immensely pleased with himself. "I'd say I can't believe you did that, but I've met you," Tyson says, grinning.

"You married me, even," Josty says, and his smile goes sweet, the private, awed little expression that's been coming out kind of often since they moved their relationship from platonic to full of romance-adjacent feelings. "I think that actually makes you the expert on all kinds of me-related stuff."

"Working on it," Tyson promises. He squeezes Josty's hand gently, because he's still not too great at the whole "using your words" thing, but he's getting better at making himself known. Probably. Kind of.

"Anyway, don't stress about it," Josty says, tone a little more serious now. "We're hockey players cooking for other hockey players. If they whine about the turkey not being perfect, tell them they can make their own next year, and they're not allowed to get it pre-made from Costco."

"I don't want to get poisoned, though," Tyson says, raising an eyebrow. "I think I'd rather take the criticism."

"Then withhold lava cake," Josty suggests. "Tell them if they bitch about the food, you give their lava cake to someone you like better."

"I'm guessing you mean yourself," Tyson says. He can't keep his smile in.

"Of course I mean myself," Josty says. "You signed a piece of paper promising to like me best, and I'd like to think I've been upholding my end of that deal, so if I can leverage that to get myself more lava cake—"

Tyson leans in and kisses him, quick and soft, and Josty's already smiling at him when he leans back.

"You know I'll make you lava cake whenever," Tyson says. "Just ask. We always have the stuff around."

Josty groans a little theatrically. "Every time you remind me of that, I have to keep myself from asking you to make some every night. You're a danger to my diet plan, Barrie."

"You knew about the lava cake when you offered to marry me, Jost," Tyson says, shrugging unapologetically. "Never thought I'd end up married to someone who thought my lava cake was a downside."

Josty leans back in to kiss him, just as brief as Tyson had been. "Never that. Your lava cake is a blessing."

"Damn right it is," Tyson says, grinning.

"So let's get all this stuff loaded in the car so we can take it to Landy's house and impress our teammates with it," Josty adds, stepping back and gesturing at the table. "Perfect turkey and perfect lava cake, and this year I don't have to worry about getting chirped for my soda choices."

"Who's in charge of soda this year?" Tyson asks, grabbing the box of ramekins.

"Kerf and Comphs still," Josty says. He looks at the turkey, but reaches out to grab the box with all the cake ingredients in it instead, which is probably the smarter choice. "So we'll probably end up with whatever's on sale, because Kerf can't resist swiping his super saver card at Safeway."

"You build enough enough points, you get a free turkey," Tyson says, heading for the garage.

Josty snorts. "What the hell are they gonna do with a free turkey?"

Tyson opens his mouth but luckily realises he was going to say _make a turkey_ before it comes out. "Donate it?" he offers weakly.

"They can just write a check to the food bank," Josty says, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I hope you like Mr. Pibb or whatever with your turkey, that's all I'm saying."

"I like water," Tyson says. He shifts the box so he can open the car door, then walks around and opens the other side so Josty can shove the cake stuff in. "Turkey in the trunk?"

"I don't really want it on my lap, so yeah," Josty says. "You want a hand with it?"

Tyson shakes his head. "Just let me know if it looks like I'm gonna trip over something."

"Always," Josty says, and Tyson had meant here and now, just while he's carrying the turkey to the car, but there's something more serious in Josty's tone. When Tyson glances up, there's a small smile on his face.

"Okay," Tyson says, because he's not sure what else to say, what Josty's looking for or what he means, not really. "Thanks."

Josty laughs and shakes his head. It's not a thing Tyson thought he'd have to deal with while he's married to Josty, the feeling that he's an emotional step behind, but it's not something he finds himself minding, either.

"Turkey," Josty reminds him, and, right. Turkey.

Tyson turns back to the house and heads back in. If they're late with the main course, they'll never hear the end of it.

-0-

"Dude, your turkey is perfect," Nate says, sighing and dropping his head to Tyson's shoulder. "How do you even know how to do that?"

"Practice," Tyson says, which is true. "And Google," he adds, which is also true.

"I feel like I'd just burn it," Nate says, not moving his head. "Or worse."

Tyson tries to turn to look at him, but he's solidly listing into Tyson's side, post-food coma and beer-induced tiredness settling in. "What's worse than burning it?"

Soda snorts from the loveseat, where he and his wife are sitting. "Barrie, if he answers that, you have to know it forever. _I_ have to know it forever. Please be less curious."

"A valid point," Tyson says. "Never mind. Don't tell me."

"Okay," Nate says peaceably. "Hey, Tyson?"

"Yeah, buddy?" Tyson replies.

"You know Josty's in love with you, right?" Nate says, in that same half-asleep tone of voice he'd used to ask about the turkey.

Tyson chokes on air. "He's, uh," he says. "How the hell did you know that?"

This time it's Soda's wife who snorts. "Honey, anyone could see it," she says. "It's sweet, truly."

"But, like," Nate says, shifting and trying to hold Tyson's gaze. "You know, right?"

"I know," Tyson says. "We've talked about it. Why are you bringing it up?"

"Because you're sort of in love with him, too, and I want you to be happy," Nate says, voice the kind of earnest he never is unless he's too tired to employ his brain-to-mouth filter. Usually this is hilarious, but right now Tyson feels like his throat is closing up, the way Kerf had explained the whole accidental peanut thing when they'd been in Sweden.

"I'm," Tyson repeats faintly.

"Okay, MacKinnon, enough out of you," Soda says. He glances quickly at Tyson as he stands, but then he's pulling Nate up off of the sofa, helping him stumble down the hallway and into one of the guest rooms that EJ said they were welcome to crash in when it became clear that almost everyone left was probably staying. Tyson just sort of stares after them, because honestly, Nate, what the fuck.

Except, Tyson thinks as he glances at Soda's wife, who's smiling at him with amusement clear on her face. Except he does like Josty, and he knows Josty's into him, always a few steps ahead somehow, and Nate's helped him figure out his feelings in the past. He doesn't think Nate's lying, and he doesn't think Nate's wrong; he just doesn't know how Nate figured it out, how Nate always knows what the nameless feelings floating around in Tyson's gut are called before Tyson can even look at them clearly.

"Uh," Tyson says weakly.

"Go find him," Soda's wife says, and she's not laughing at him, but it's probably close. "I'd say good luck, but I don't think you need it."

"Thanks," Tyson says faintly. "I'll, uh. See you later?"

She waves at him, and it's probably a kindness that she just lets him go. He'll think about it more later, probably, but right now he's feeling dazed in a way that has nothing to do with how much he's eaten today and everything to do with the sudden knowledge that he's kind of in love with his husband.

It's not actually hard to find Josty; he's hanging out with the younger guys in the den, laughing as Sam and Gravy play Mario Kart with way too much focused intensity. Tyson would normally chirp them about being far too focused to be real defensemen, but instead he reaches over the back of the recliner and taps Josty on the shoulder. "Hey, uh," he says.

Josty turns to him, smiling, but his expression quickly turns concerned. "Babe? You okay?"

"Yeah, everything's okay," Tyson replies. "Just—can I talk to you? Just for a minute, I swear, and then you can come watch Gravy be better at things than Sammy is."

"Hey," Sam protests, twisting to scowl at Tyson. It makes his Yoshi go flying off the edge of the track, and Gravy crows as Wario passes him. Sam whips back around. "Hey!"

Gravy snickers, but Josty hasn't looked away from Tyson. He nods and goes to get up, but Comphs leans over and puts his hand on Josty's knee. They turn to look at each other, some sort of silent communication that Tyson can't interpret, and he suddenly remembers what Kerf had said the day they moved Josty out of the house, that they'd hooked up a handful of times. They were best friends before that and stayed best friends after, so it's not really surprising that they have some sort of best friend telepathy thing. Tyson waits it out, and it's probably only ten seconds before Josty smiles and raps his knuckles against the back of Comphs' hand, but it feels like half an eternity.

"Okay," Josty says, standing up and turning back to Tyson. "What's up?"

"Just," Tyson says, reaching out and taking his hand. Nobody in the room reacts in any way that Tyson can tell, which means Josty's probably clued them in about the non-platonic turn their relationship has taken, but it's not like Tyson minds. Not at all, actually, and he's thinking about how comfortable Josty has always been and how much Tyson has come to rely on that in such a short amount of time as he walks across the room and out into the hall.

"Hey," Josty says, stepping into Tyson's space and tugging his hand free, immediately settling it on Tyson's waist. "What's going on? You said everything's okay, but..."

"I love you," Tyson blurts out, because he's been a mess his entire life and getting married hasn't done a damn thing to change that. Not that he was expecting it to, but it might've been nice.

Josty's face is as expressive as ever, which means Tyson gets to see the full array of emotions play out there. He's surprised, happy, something that looks unbearably close to fond as a smile blooms across his face. "Damn, and here I thought I was keeping my feelings to myself so I didn't freak you out," he says after a moment.

Tyson laughs and shoves a hand through his hair. "I mean, probably not the worst plan," he says. "But, like. I figured it out—or, well, Nate told me—"

"Nate told you," Josty repeats. "Seriously, Tys?"

"Nate gave me a name for what I was already feeling," Tyson clarifies, even though he doesn't really think that makes it better. "But I do, and I wanted to let you know, so here we are."

Josty laughs, a small, stupidly fond sort of thing. "Here we are," he agrees. He leans in to kiss Tyson softly, one hand on his waist and one gently moving his face to the best possible kissing position, and it's just—Tyson has no idea how he didn't figure it out for himself, that the warmth and the happiness and the bone-deep contentment he gets when they're together, the way it all intensifies when Josty kisses him good morning or good night or just because, that it was because he'd fallen in love. Probably because he wasn't expecting to, if he's being honest with himself, but still.

"Guys," Kerf calls from the den some point later. "I can see Josty's shirt, so I know you're still out there, but I have to go to the bathroom. Please don't be making out in the hallway, because I don't want to see that."

Tyson pulls back and leans their foreheads together. "We should go home," he says. "And continue this, uh. Conversation."

Josty snickers. "We should," he agrees. "In a minute, though, because I owe them so much payback."

Tyson grins. "You do," he agrees.

Josty raises his voice. "Fine, spoilsport, go to the bathroom," he calls back, and then he turns them so they're angled more towards the doorway before leaning in to kiss Tyson again, and Tyson pushes his hand up into Josty's hair just as Kerf walks into the hallway.

"Oh, come on," he complains, and Josty breaks the kiss so he can drop his head down to Tyson's shoulder and snicker, but all Tyson can do is smile about it.

-0-

It's probably a good thing they had never gotten around to replacing the bed in what had been Josty's room, Tyson thinks absently. It's not like he used it for that long, and Tyson definitely doesn't want to give up his mattress for whatever Josty would have picked. It's much nicer to have him here, sprawled across Tyson's chest where Tyson can keep him close with an arm around his shoulders, sleeping peacefully for the few minutes before the last chance alarm goes off.

He needs the sleep, too, Tyson thinks. They've been tearing it up since the beginning of the year, but things have slowed down since American Thanksgiving, and Josty hasn't been producing like he wants to. It's the first time Tyson has really been looking for that kind of strain and it's not hard to find. It's in the tense set of Josty's shoulders, the way he focuses on everything from practice to pregame skate to the food he eats to how much time he spends reviewing tape. It's a lot, and it's not like Tyson doesn't remember his first few years in the league, but he doesn't think he was ever this stressed out about it.

Josty shifts in what Tyson has quickly come to know as him slowly waking up. He blinks his eyes open and then squeezes them closed again, turning to hide his face against Tyson's chest. It makes a whole bunch of feelings flare at the same time, fondness and protectiveness and the little kernel of joy that he's figured out his shit enough for them to get here. He runs his hand slowly up and down Josty's arm while he comes to; he can wait.

"Time to get up?" Josty asks. His voice is deeper right when he wakes up, low and rumbly, and it's not like they have time to do anything with how long Tyson let them sleep, but Tyson's tempted anyway.

He makes the responsible choice and tilts his head down to press a kiss to Josty's forehead. "Yeah," he says quietly. "And we're gonna have to shower after practice, not before, because we need to get up kind of—"

The alarm starts blaring, and Josty snickers a little. "Right now?"

"Yeah," Tyson says, grinning. "We need to be out the door in half an hour."

"Half an hour?" Josty asks, finally rolling away. "Why'd you let me sleep so long?"

Tyson bites back _because you needed it_ , which is both his first and second reaction, but manages to shrug before it gets weird. "Felt like it," he says instead, which isn't actually a safer answer, not with how Josty rolls his eyes.

"Okay, well, feel like giving us at least 45 minutes next time," Josty says as he heads for the bathroom. "Showering helps me wake up."

Tyson nods without meaning it, because he can't do much about Josty's point totals but he sure can make sure he's getting an extra fifteen minutes of sleep here and there. "I'll get breakfast together," he says, sitting and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Coffee'll be ready by the time you're dressed and downstairs."

Josty turns in the doorway, looking back at Tyson. His smile is somehow bright and quiet at the same time, something Tyson's only ever seen directed at him. "This is why you're the best," he says. "Thanks, babe."

Tyson rolls his eyes a little, but it's not until after Josty goes into the bathroom. He knows that the whole _babe_ thing had started as a joke, but there's an earnestness to it now. It's cheesy, but it's also cute; it's _also_ going to get them fined in the locker room, but Tyson figures they still won't be as bad as Gabe and EJ.

He makes them breakfast on autopilot; it's easy enough to make eggs and cut up some fruit, and just like he promised, the coffee is just finishing up when Josty gets downstairs. "Morning," he says, dropping a kiss on Tyson's shoulder. "Bathroom's free when you're done inhaling your food."

"I'm gonna run up now and get ready while the eggs are cooling," Tyson decides. "Don't eat mine."

"Pinky swear," Josty says, grinning at him as Tyson heads back for the stairs.

It's nicer than Tyson thought it was going to be, and it's all he can think about as he washes his face and brushes his teeth and gets dressed. It's not like he hadn't felt at home here before, but it's like home has a new kind of meaning now, and maybe also like he could get that same feeling of home in a hotel in St. Louis or Toronto or Sunrise. He's been in relationships before, serious ones, but this is the kind of thing Tyson thinks his mom would call _domestic_.

He freezes with his shirt pulled halfway over his head, because—it hadn't been real, so he'd told his family about it in a mostly offhand way and they'd nodded and rolled with it, but it's been a couple of weeks since that changed and he hasn't said anything. It's not like he would've told them about dating someone new at this point, he tries to tell himself as he yanks too hard on his shirt and maybe stretches the hem out a little weirdly. It would be awkward, too early, and—he's married to Josty, which means he definitely has to tell his family. His sister, at least, and his mom, which means his dad is gonna know too.

"Hey," he hollers as he jogs out of his room, firmly telling himself he's not rushing because he's fuelled by panic. "Have you told your mom that we're, y'know, for real?"

"No," Josty says, stepping out of the kitchen to hand Tyson a cup of coffee. "I figured I'd tell her over Christmas. She's gonna want to have a whole talk about it, so at least I'll have the time then."

"Christmas," Tyson says. He moves past Josty so he can sit at the table and start eating his breakfast. "Is it weird that we haven't talked about what we're doing? Are we doing things together?"

Josty shrugs a shoulder. It's a gesture he makes a lot, and Tyson hadn't always known that he does it with different intents, but definitely knows now that Josty's a little tense. "I figured you were flying back to BC for the break," he says. "My family's, uh. Mom and Kacey are coming here, and we're just gonna do a few days of chilling around Denver before they head back."

"Oh," Tyson says, putting his fork down. "I'm… I don't really have plans? I don't usually fly home, but if you don't want me to be here while your family's here, I can."

"No," Josty says, stepping into the kitchen. "I think I'd like you to be here, if that's okay? Like, don't feel pressured or whatever—"

"Hey," Tyson cuts in. He smiles up at Josty. "I'll stay, okay? I'd love to meet your mom and your sister. Again, I mean."

Josty laughs and shoves a hand through his hair. "Yeah?"

"Definitely," Tyson says. "D'you want to invite them to stay here, or should we get them a hotel room?"

"I'll ask Mom," Josty says, smiling at him. "Wow, uh. Just so you know, she's gonna be really psyched. She's only met one of my exes, and that's because it was impossible for them to not cross paths."

"Fabbro," Tyson guesses, and he's rewarded with a quick flash of a smile.

"Dante's a good dude," Josty says. "He's still one of my best friends, so chances are good you'll meet him at some point, just so you know."

"Noted," Tyson says. "Let me know what your mom says, and we'll make sure whatever she wants gets set up. I really don't mind having them here for a few days, so if you're worried about that, don't be."

Josty walks over and leans down, kissing Tyson firmly, coffee breath and all. "You really are the best," he says, and having that smile this close to him is too much to resist, and Tyson's pretty sure skipping the last bit of his eggs to kiss his husband before they have to leave for practice is absolutely the best use of his time, so he does.

-0-

December sucks; there's really no other way to put it. It's like they can't buy a win, and Tyson's starting to think that overtime is actually cursed. He doesn't want to give up hope on the playoffs, but he's also starting to think it's do or die season. Just once in his career, he thinks, he'd like the Avs to be in a solid playoff spot pretty much throughout the season.

It's definitely wearing on Josty harder, with how his point totals are going, but he's got this determined kind of optimism about it that Tyson would have thought was forced if he wasn't familiar with the way Josty is as a person. It helps that Christmas is approaching kind of quickly, because Josty is really excited about his mom and sister visiting. They'll be in a hotel, since Laura had politely but firmly declined to stay at their place, but Tyson has the feeling they'll actually be at the house a lot.

"So I really want to put some Christmas decorations up," Josty says. They're driving home after what feels like their first win in a year, and it's less than a week until Christmas and they haven't discussed it at all, but Tyson nods anyway.

"What were you thinking?" he asks. "A tree, obviously, and stockings. Lights? Mistletoe? One of those obnoxious lawn ornaments that sings and moves around?"

Josty laughs, and it eases some of the pinched look on his face. "Big no on the mistletoe, because Kacey will absolutely make sure you and Mom get caught under it together," he says. "I'm not against some kind of dancing reindeer for the lawn, though."

"Awesome," Tyson says. "How classy do you want to get with it? Because we can go to Target right now, or we can wait for the morning and go to a nicer store."

"Tacky now," Josty says immediately. "Babe, c'mon, let's see if they have a giant blow-up abominable snowman. It's a Target; we have a chance."

"We do," Tyson says, switching lanes so he can get off the highway. "I have a tree and some lights, but we should buy some ornaments."

"You don't have ornaments?" Josty asks, and the pure judgment in his voice is enough to have Tyson cracking a smile.

"I do," Tyson answers. "But, like, we should have some that are ours, right? That's a thing people do."

It's quiet for a long moment, enough time that Tyson glances over once they're on a straightaway. Josty's looking at him, a small smile on his face, and Tyson flushes a little before looking back at the road.

"That's really sweet," Josty says quietly. "Dude."

Tyson laughs. "Well, thanks for breaking the moment," he says.

"That's what I'm here for," Josty says as Tyson turns into the Target parking lot. "Making the moment and then breaking the moment. I have a gift."

"Or something," Tyson says, grinning as he parks the car. "Ready?"

"Almost," Josty says. When Tyson turns to look at him, he's leaning in, and he presses a quick, chaste kiss to Tyson's mouth before pulling back. "Okay. Now I'm ready."

"Sap," Tyson says, but he's honestly not much better, so they just sit there and grin at each other for a moment before getting out of the car.

It's pretty deserted; Tyson isn't surprised, because it's almost midnight on a Wednesday, but with it being this close to Christmas that's never a sure bet. He's glad there aren't many people in the store, though, because it means he and Josty can debate over ornaments with their cart parked in the middle of the aisle without actually getting in anyone's way. They find a dozen or so, plastic cartoon characters and a wooden sled and a felt mitten. Josty picks up a wreath for the front door that's actually kind of tasteful, which is more commentary on the state of Target's wreath selection than Josty's ability to choose, although it's kind of a close call.

"Stockings," Josty says once they've decided that they need both a blow-up Snoopy and a giant plastic convertible with a Santa in it for the lawn. "Can we get them for Mom and Kacey, too? It would be kind of cool to fill up stockings for them, I think."

"Sure," Tyson says. Their cart is full of more Christmas stuff than he's probably ever put up in his life total, but it's fun, and it's worth it for the way Josty's so clearly into it, too. "Do we want, like, matching ones, or ones with our names or something, or all different?"

Josty snickers. "Well, not first names," he says. "That's confusion we just don't need in our lives."

"Fair," Tyson says. "Initials?"

It makes Josty look at him, then burst out laughing, loud and bright. "Babe," he says, holding onto the side of the cart as he laughs. "Tys. _Babe_. No way am I giving our teammates that kind of chirping material, if we have a B and a J right next to each other."

Tyson chokes on nothing and then starts laughing, and it's ridiculous, the two of them using the shopping cart to hold themselves up as they laugh hysterically in the Christmas aisle. It's Target, which means everyone in here has seen weirder, but it still catches Tyson a little off guard. This is the kind of ridiculous stuff he'd always thought he'd have with whoever he married, and then he thought he wouldn't get it, and now…

Josty smiles at him, wide and happy. His arms are folded as he leans on the edge of the cart, and Tyson doesn't really know how he ever could've wanted anything or anyone else. It's nothing but impulse that has him leaning across the cart to kiss him, quick and soft, but when he rocks back onto his heels Josty's smile is soft, impossibly fond.

"We'll get blank ones and put our numbers on them," Josty says. "And we can write Mom and Kacey's names on theirs, too."

Tyson turns to the rack behind himself, looking at their options. "Wait," he says. "You pick one for me, and I'll pick one for you. That's cute, right?"

"That's so cute," Josty agrees, walking around the cart to stand beside Tyson. "Okay. Then you get one for Kacey, and I'll get Mom's."

"I barely know Kacey," Tyson says, alarmed. "I don't want her to get annoyed if I pick out something she hates."

"She doesn't like orange, and she'll chirp you way less than she'll chirp me," Josty says. "Possibly because you can see orange, but possibly also because she likes you better."

"How does she like me better?" Tyson asks, surveying the stockings. Josty's is easy once he knows what he's looking for; it's a deep, soft-looking blue with lighter blue polka dots, and Tyson grabs it and tosses it into the cart. "She's only met me once!"

"You've never embarrassed her in front of all her friends," Josty points out, throwing a stocking into the cart too quickly for Tyson to see what's on it. "Or her boyfriend. Or her girlfriend. Or—"

"I married a menace," Tyson says. "Like, not that I didn't know that, but wow."

Josty laughs. "Don't tell Z," he says. "I don't want him thinking I stole his title, or he'll bug the shit out of me at skate."

"I'll protect you," Tyson says. There's a nice deep purple stocking with bows on it, and he points to it. "That one?"

"No," Josty says, scrunching his face up. "Also, babe, do not fight Z. I love you and I don't want you to get murdered."

"Hey," Tyson protests, but it's mild, mostly because there's really nothing he can say here. "I might not die."

"You're way less likely to die if you don't fight him," Josty says reasonably. He pulls a stocking from the shelf and squints at it. "Is this orange?"

"Dark red," Tyson says. "Why didn't we bring the colour-correcting glasses?"

"I don't carry them around with me," Josty says, putting the stocking back. "Maybe I should, if late-night Target trips for stuff to hang in our house are gonna become a regular thing."

It's a good thing Josty's facing the row of stockings, hunting through them for one for his mother, because that means he doesn't see the no-holds-barred ridiculous smile that's spreading across Tyson's face at the mention of _our house_. He really likes the sound of that.

-0-

"So, Tyson," Kacey says. Josty's in the living room with his mom, and Kacey is supposed to be helping Tyson with dinner, but so far she's stolen three carrot sticks from the veggie platter he's trying to put together and grinned Josty's familiar, easy grin at him when he'd made a face. He doesn't have a clue why she volunteered to help cook.

"So, Kacey," Tyson says when she doesn't go on. "What's up? How's school?"

"School's good," Kacey says, nodding. "Thanks for asking. If you break my brother's heart, I will find a way to end you and make it look like an accident. Do you have any ranch to dip the carrots in?"

"I," Tyson says. He'd been chopping celery, but now he's blinking at Kacey as she stares back at him, carrot stick in hand. "Did you just threaten to murder me and then ask me for salad dressing?"

She doesn't even blink. "Sounds about right, yeah."

Tyson is honestly not sure what he's supposed to say here, so he just kind of points his knife at the refrigerator. "There should be some? In the door?"

Kacey hops off the counter she's been sitting on and pulls the refrigerator open, emerging victoriously with the dressing a moment later. She doesn't even look at him as she pours some into the little cup in the centre of the veggie platter Tyson's filling up, and that might honestly be more unnerving than the original threat had been.

"Uh," he says, less because he feels like he has something to say and more because he feels like he needs to fill the silence here. "I don't… think I will?"

"Good, great," Kacey says, putting the cap back onto the dressing. "In that case, welcome to the family, glad to have you, please introduce me to your sister so we can have sibling time."

"Uh," Tyson says again. "O...kay?"

Kacey flashes him a smile. "I like the stocking," she adds, and then she dips her carrot stick in the dressing, pops the whole thing into her mouth, and walks right out of the kitchen.

"What the fuck," Tyson says to the celery.

It doesn't answer, so he blinks a few times and gets back to it; the veggie platter isn't gonna make itself, and even though Laura had said she didn't need a full spread, Tyson feels kind of obligated to put his best foot forward anyway. He did marry her son, after all, and even though it had been platonic at first it isn't even close to that now. It's for sure the weirdest meet the family moment he can imagine.

A pair of arms slips around Tyson's waist, and he smiles as he feels Josty's chin hook over his shoulder. "Kacey's not as scary as she seems," he says by way of hello.

Tyson hums and reaches for a piece of broccoli, holding it up for Josty to eat. "She kind of is," he says as Josty leans forward and snatches it with his teeth. "Like, it's kind of sweet? But also, yikes."

Josty snorts, crunching on the broccoli. "I was gonna say she's all bark and no bite, but she's at least partially bite," he says. "I guess she's maybe a little scary."

"She wants to meet my sister," Tyson says, picking the knife back up and getting back to the broccoli. "If that happens, it's gonna be over for both of us."

"I don't think we can prevent it forever," Josty says, sighing and resting his chin against Tyson's shoulder again. "We're just doomed, I guess."

Tyson hums and turns his head. Ideally he'd be able to steal a kiss, but instead he ends up with his nose in Josty's hair. He presses a kiss to Josty's cheek anyway. "Worth it."

There's a click from behind them, and they both turn in time to see Laura lowering her phone. "You two are adorable," she says, smiling. "I'm glad you figured things out. It really seems like you make each other happy."

"Mom," Josty says, groaning a little.

Tyson reaches out and takes his hand. "We're trying," he says. "It, uh. It means a lot to me that you're just… cool with all of this."

Laura laughs. "It's a little unconventional, sure," she says, shrugging. "But families come in all shapes and sizes and all that jazz. You married into one that looks a little strange from the outside."

"There's nothing weird about our family," Josty says immediately, frowning.

"Of course there isn't," Laura says, smiling. "Like I said, kiddo, all shapes and sizes." She pauses. "Although I don't think I ever expected you to find yourself another Tyson. That's a new and interesting shape."

Tyson laughs. "We're making it work for us, though. Or at least I hope we are."

Laura's face softens. "It sure looks like you are," she says. "If there's ever anything I can do for you, boys, you just let me know, okay?"

"Right back at you, Mom," Josty says, squeezing Tyson's hand hard. "We're here for you too, okay?"

"Okay," Laura says, beaming at them both. "Now let's get this supper finished before Kacey threatens to help cook again."

Tyson blinks. "Wait, that's a threat?"

"Oh, for sure," Josty says. "You think I'm bad at cooking, babe, but you've never seen her try."

"That's terrifying," Tyson says, feeling his eyes go wide. "Why did you let her offer to help me in the first place, then?"

Laura and Josty look at each other for a moment before Josty laughs. "We kinda guessed what she actually wanted," he says after a moment. "And it's better to just let her get it over with, or she gets sneaky about it."

"You knew?" Tyson says indignantly. "She threatened me! And then asked for ranch dressing!"

Laura bursts into laughter. "Sounds like Kacey."

Josty grins at him, squeezing his hand. "C'mon," he says. "You chop, I'll arrange. Go team."

"Go team," Tyson says, squeezing back. "Although in the future, this part of the team would like a little forewarning about the potential shovel talk, if that's possible."

"Careful when you meet Dante, then," Laura says brightly, and Josty just starts laughing again.

-0-

Christmas is good; it's a nice little reprieve from everything, Laura and Kacey doing their best to make the holiday as non-hockey-related as possible. It only lasts a few days, but Josty starts looking a lot less pinched around the eyes, and Tyson knows he's not the only one who's noticed.

Laura corners him in the den about an hour before they leave for the airport. "I know I don't have to tell you to take care of him," she says softly. "You're already doing that, and he can take care of himself, but…"

"I'm doing the best I can," Tyson says. "And I'll keep doing it, I swear."

Laura smiles and leans in, throwing her arms around Tyson and drawing him in. "You're good with each other," she says. "I really am glad, you know. Even if I didn't see this coming."

"You're definitely not the only one," Tyson says, smiling when Laura laughs. "I'm pretty sure nobody saw this coming."

Laura hums a little as she draws back. "You and I didn't," she says. "But Tyson doesn't do things without thinking them through first, as hard as it might be to believe that."

Tyson raises both eyebrows; literally four days ago, Josty had impulse-Grubhubed enough Taco Bell to feed both of them for a week, then proceeded to complain about how his eyes were bigger than his stomach when it arrived. "Okay," he says slowly.

Laura just grins, though. "Not about the big things, anyway," she amends. "I'm not gonna say he doesn't ever do stupid shit, but when it comes to things that matter…"

"Huh," Tyson says, blinking. "Okay, that's—okay. Thank you for telling me that."

"And thank you for being okay with Kacey and I invading during your time off," Laura says, doing that smooth transition away from potential awkwardness that Tyson's only ever seen moms pull off. "We'll have to see if we can coordinate with your family next year. I don't want you to feel like we're leaving anyone out."

"Oh, no," Tyson protests. "That's not—I'm glad you guys were able to come down. It was nice having you, and my parents do their own thing for the holiday."

"Okay," Laura says, smiling. "Maybe over the summer? We should all celebrate, as long as that's a thing you boys are comfortable doing."

Tyson thinks about his dad and celebrations, and then about Kacey and Victoria meeting and the general chaos that's going to cause. It's kind of a lot to consider, but Tyson's kind of a sucker for family, so he smiles. "Sure," he says. "I'll get you in touch with my mom. It'll be fun."

"Your tone of voice isn't very convincing," Laura says, laughing. "I appreciate it, Tyson. And thanks again for a really nice Christmas."

"Thanks for coming," he replies, bending down to give her a hug. "You and Kacey are welcome whenever."

Laura laughs. "I'll make sure she calls first."

Tyson can feel his face go beet red, but Laura keeps laughing, and Kacey and Josty walk in a minute later. "Nah, don't tell me," Kacey decides, looking back and forth between Tyson and Laura. "Mom, you ready? Tys says we should get on the road now if we don't want to risk being late."

"Holiday traffic," Josty adds. "I'd rather you guys were early than late, and it might be kind of terrible on the roads."

Laura nods. "Okay, then we should get going," she says. "We'll keep in touch, Tyson."

"We sure will," Kacey says, narrowing her eyes slightly. "I'm serious about introducing me to your sister."

Tyson holds his hands up. "I will," he promises. As soon as he tells her about the whole situation, he amends mentally.

"You'd better," she says, eyes still narrowed, and then she breaks into a smile and darts forward to hug him tightly. "I didn't think I was gonna end up with _two_ brothers named Tyson, but I guess I'm okay with it."

"You guess," Josty says mockingly, but he's smiling softly at them. "Stop hogging my husband. I'd like to say goodbye before we get on the road."

"Ew," Kacey exclaims, jumping back. "I'm going to the car. I don't want to see any of that."

"Kacey," Laura sighs, but it's pretty clear that she's biting back a grin. "Come on, help me load my suitcase."

"Gladly," Kacey says, grabbing Laura's carry-on and heading quickly for the door. "Bye!"

Josty snickers as Kacey blows out the door, Laura rolling her eyes and following. He waits until the door shuts behind them to step into Tyson's space and lean up for a soft kiss. "They like you."

Tyson feels the smile spread across his face. "Yeah? I like them, too."

"Oh, good," Josty says. "You married me, and we're kind of a package deal sometimes."

"Don't let Kacey kill me in my sleep and I'll keep being okay with it," Tyson bargains.

"She's not actually that scary," Josty says, grinning. "Should I be this afraid of your sister?"

"Yes," Tyson says instantly. " _I'm_ that afraid of my own sister. Be very afraid of my sister."

Josty laughs. "She's not that bad, I bet."

"She's not," Tyson allows, smiling. "She's definitely gonna like you better, though. It's like you were saying with how you haven't embarrassed her in front of her friends."

"Give it time," Josty says cheerily, and Tyson laughs. "I'll be back in a little while. I'm just dropping them off, and then I'll come home."

"I'll be here," Tyson says.

"Awesome," Josty says, face going impossibly soft. He leans up and kisses Tyson again, firm but quick, and then pulls back. "Love you," he says, smiling.

"Love you too," Tyson says. It still feels novel, although his gut churns less every time he says it, and the smile it causes on Josty's face is worth it anyway. "I'll see you in a little while."

Josty steps back, smile still on his face. "Yeah," he says. He stands there for a moment, then opens his mouth like he's going to say something else, but they're both startled by the sound of a car horn blaring.

"Kacey," Josty says, rolling his eyes in the way of older brothers everywhere. "I'd better go before she decides to give me shit the whole way to the airport."

Tyson laughs. "Yeah, good luck with that."

Josty shakes his head but he's grinning as he walks out the door.

-0-

If December was bad, then January's pretty much unspeakable. They lose and lose and lose, and they don't even manage to drag it to overtime for the pity points. It's just abysmal, and Tyson can feel the playoffs slipping from their fingers. Worse than that, though, he can feel Josty getting more and more brittle, like he thinks that any wrong move he makes is going to get him scratched for the rest of his career.

"Hey," Tyson tries one night. They're in the middle of a road trip, three bad losses behind them and two tough games ahead. "It's not—"

"Tys," Josty cuts in, and he doesn't sound angry, just tired. It's worse, somehow, because Josty's nothing if not bright and fully present in all situations, but it's been like watching a shadow of him walk around for the past couple of weeks. "They're gonna send me down."

Tyson sits up. "What? They're not gonna do that."

"They have to do something," Josty says, gesturing vaguely at nothing before collapsing on the hotel bed next to Tyson. "The team needs a shake-up. I'm waivers exempt, and most of the other guys aren't. I've been playing like crap. They're gonna send me down, babe."

There's not much Tyson can say, not when it's laid out like that; him not wanting it to be true doesn't really mean it isn't, as much as he'd like to think otherwise. He just puts his arm around Josty's shoulders and pulls him in, and Josty tips into him willingly, burying his face in Tyson's neck.

"At least it's not far," he mumbles. "Loveland's, what, an hour from Denver? It's not like sending me down means going to San Antonio anymore."

"I love you," Tyson says, feeling kind of helpless.

"I love you, too," Josty says. He sighs against Tyson's shoulder. "And I'm gonna have to love you from Loveland for a while."

Tyson bites his lip, because laughing wouldn't be cool right now, but Josty snorts after a moment. "Oh my god, just let it out."

"Loveland," Tyson says, and then he starts laughing. "Maybe we should vacation there, see if it's actually a romantic hotspot."

Josty sighs, but Tyson can feel him grinning where his face is pressed against Tyson's neck. "Somehow I doubt it."

"Love-land," Tyson singsongs. "We never did get a honeymoon."

It makes Josty laugh outright, and Tyson mentally fistpumps. "Take me somewhere tropical," he says. "Somewhere nice, Barrie. I have standards."

Tyson gasps. "You _do_? Shit, what are you doing with me?"

"Cuddling," Josty says promptly. "What's it look like?"

Tyson grins. "We could put a movie on," he offers. "Something that looks warm, so we don't have to think about Toronto in the snow."

"Ugh, now I'm thinking about it," Josty says, sitting back up and making a face at Tyson. "What if we just put on HGTV and talked about something not related to hockey?"

"Sure," Tyson says. "Want to plan our honeymoon? We can go wherever you want."

Josty grabs the remote and turns the television on, flipping through the channels until he finds _House Hunters_. "Even if I say something dumb like Disney?"

"Even if you say something dumb like Disney," Tyson says. "Although why you think Disney is dumb is beyond me. Disney kicks ass."

"It does," Josty says, flopping back onto the bed. He pats the space beside himself, and Tyson obliges, laying down flat so Josty can curl up against him. He minds being a human body pillow way less than he probably would have guessed, if he'd been asked before this whole thing started. "I don't think I want to honeymoon there, though. Maybe we can just go during the All-Star break next year. That'd be sweet."

"It is kind of nice how it's pretty much a guaranteed vacation for everyone except Nate," Tyson observes. "I mean, it'd be cool to go, but…"

"But," Josty agrees. "Give me downtime or give me death. Those are literally the only options; if I don't rest during that week, I think I'll just croak."

Tyson hums. "Don't do that. We're just figuring this out."

"We are," Josty says. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Tyson says, grinning. "Except on a honeymoon. C'mon, where do you want to go? Somewhere with a beach? An island or something?"

"Yeah," Josty says, sighing a little dreamily. "Somewhere not super populated, though. I don't want to share."

"There's plenty of me to go around," Tyson says, laughing when Josty jabs him in the thigh.

"But I share you with everyone else all the time," Josty points out. "A week on a beach somewhere that nobody's gonna bug us sounds amazing." He pauses. "And then maybe Disney after."

Tyson laughs. "You sure you don't want to do Disney first? Get all that exertion out of the way, and then just relax and unwind?"

Josty snorts and pushes himself up on his elbow, smirking down at Tyson. "You think there's not gonna be any _exertion_ at the beach, huh?"

"Oh my god, you're such a menace," Tyson says, laughing when Josty grins and lays back down. He drapes his arm around Josty's shoulders, rubbing absently at his arm. "Why did I marry you?"

"Because the other option was marrying one of my roommates, and that would for sure make you part of a threesome all the time," Josty says promptly. "They'd fuck in your bed and they wouldn't even invite you."

Tyson laughs, and he can feel Josty shaking on the bed beside him. "Nah, I think I ended up winning that one."

"Funny story," Josty says, slinging an arm over Tyson's waist and burrowing closer. "I think I did, too."

-0-

They crush the Leafs but lose in an embarrassing fashion to the Sens, and then they get home, and then—

"I told you this was coming," Josty says, sitting at the kitchen table. He's tapping his fingers against the table, not really hitting a rhythm. Tyson's not sure he's actually trying to. "I knew they were gonna send me down."

"Hey," Tyson says, sitting in the chair next to him. "You said it yourself, babe. They need to do something and you're the one they won't lose on waivers."

Josty gives him a lopsided approximation of a smile. "I'm not gonna lie to you. It was easier to say it before it was something I actually had to deal with."

"Hey," Tyson says again. He puts his hand on the table, palm up, right next to where Josty's fingers are tapping. The tapping stops, and a moment later, Josty grabs his hand.

"Getting sent down sucks," Josty says quietly, "and don't get me wrong, I'm upset about it. But I also just… don't want to go if you're not gonna be there."

Tyson has to close his eyes, because he can feel all his emotions bubbling up, and he doesn't want to be the thing that makes Josty go from dealing with this pretty well to losing his shit about it. "I'll send you postcards," he says. "All the dumb touristy ones."

Josty laughs. "Seriously?"

He actually sounds a little better, so Tyson chances cracking his eyes open. Josty's smiling at him, and it's not his usual exuberance but it's something, so Tyson grabs onto it with both hands. "Definitely," he says. "I'll go to all the tourist trap places and get the cheesiest ones I can find. I'll send one every day."

"That might be a little much," Josty says, but he's much closer to his normal grin now.

"You've met me, right?" Tyson says, gesturing to himself with his free hand. "All of me is a little much. It's how I get through the day."

"That's true," Josty acknowledges. "Go hard or go home, right?" He face twists a little. "Or go to Loveland, I guess."

Tyson doesn't let himself react the way he wants to, which is to reassure Josty again. Instead, he squeezes Josty's hand. "They're good guys," he says. "And you'll be a knockout down there. Just play your game and you'll be back up here in no time, okay?"

"I know," Josty says, squeezing back. "Thanks, babe."

"Of course," Tyson says. "That was in the vows we didn't actually have, right? Supporting each other even when things are shitty?"

"That's definitely what I remember," Josty says. "'Do you, Tyson, take this other Tyson to be your husband, even when things are shitty?' And then you said 'I do,' and I said 'yeah, sounds lit,' and—"

"Oh my god, shut up," Tyson says, laughing. "Here's a better question: why am I actually going to miss you?"

"Because you love me," Josty says, and it's light, teasing, but it's the absolute truth.

"I mean," Tyson says. He raises their joined hands up and presses a kiss to the back of Josty's. "Yeah, there's that, for sure."

"You're so sappy, oh my god," Josty says, but he's clearly delighted about it. "I bring out your romantic side, huh?"

"Apparently," Tyson says, smiling. "I feel like marrying you made me the sappiest person out there."

"That's sappy, too," Josty informs him with a laugh. "Wow. It's a good thing the guys don't know about this side of you."

"Nate does," Tyson says immediately. "EJ never can, though."

"God, no," Josty says, shuddering. "Although I'm pretty sure he's just as bad with Gabe."

"He is," Tyson says. "But he never fines himself, and he's in charge of fining other people, so we're not gonna give him that opportunity."

"For sure," Josty agrees. He's smiling now, something soft and kind of quiet. "I'm gonna be an hour from here and I'm still gonna miss this. How dumb is that?"

"It's not dumb," Tyson says instantly. "You've been here for months! Change is weird and awful!"

"That explains a lot about you, actually," Josty says, laughing.

"But you'll be back," Tyson says, putting all the confidence he's feeling into his voice. "It's not going to be long at all. We need you here."

"You needing me here isn't the same as the team needing me here," Josty says, and he's joking, probably, but Tyson's got the sudden urge to make absolutely sure that Josty knows how good he is.

"I mean, duh, or they wouldn't send you down at all," he says. "But you're so good, and everyone on the team loves you, and you fit in really well here. You're going to be back soon because you're an Av, and this is just a weird speed bump in the road. You're an NHL player, which means you're gonna be in the NHL. That's just the way it is. I don't make the rules."

Josty's eyes are wide. "Babe," he says, and he sounds a little choked up. "I—thank you."

Tyson leans over and kisses him, firm and solid. "Not to get all Kelly Clarkson on you or whatever, but my life would probably suck without you now," he says. It's honest and ridiculous in equal measure, which makes him think it's probably the perfect thing to say right now.

Sure enough, Josty starts laughing. It's sort of watery, but it's real. "Same," he says. "Although I don't actually think that's a love song."

"Kelly's a classic," Tyson says. "And the line fits, so I'm sticking with it."

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," Josty starts.

"No," Tyson says, trying not to laugh. "No, don't start out-cheesing me with songs. Nobody wins this game."

"But you're my wonderwall," Josty whines obnoxiously. "Maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me, Tys."

"Like you won't save yourself," Tyson scoffs, and when Josty smiles wider, clearly pleased, all Tyson can do is smile back.

-0-

"You're coming with us," Sammy says, stopping in front of Tyson's stall. He's probably never going to be a big guy, but there's something about Sammy that makes people sit up and listen anyway, and Tyson's no exception.

"Uh," he says, glancing around. Sure, they'd beaten the Kings 7-1, but it's the _Kings_ , and it's not like they're in a secure enough position to be celebrating too much right now in general. "I didn't realise we were going out?"

"Not out," Sammy says. "You're coming home with us. Colin will make food, and I will make jokes, and you will stop looking like you've lost your puppy."

Tyson loves his team, he truly does. "I don't look that bad," he says, mostly just to protest, because spending some time out of his house, where all he sees are the places Josty currently isn't, sounds like a great idea.

"You look worse," Sammy informs him, a small smile on his face. "I was being kind."

"Wilson, your husband's being mean to me," Tyson calls out.

"It's just his face," Colin calls back. "You get used to it, I promise."

Sammy mutters something under his breath in French, loud enough for Tyson to hear but too quick for him to catch. "I will serve you fruit juice instead of wine with dinner if you keep being a brat, Barrie."

"Gotta be me," Tyson says, grinning widely just to make Sammy roll his eyes. Sure enough, he does, and Tyson lets out a real laugh as he spins on his heel and walks away.

"You're going, though, right?" someone asks, and when Tyson turns, Kerf is frowning at him. "You kind of do look like your dog ran away."

"That's a mean thing to say about Josty," Comphs says, and then, "ow!" as Kerf presumably jabs a bony elbow into his ribcage.

"I'm going," he says. "And I'm calling Josty every night, so you don't need to interrogate me."

"If you think we don't already know that, then I have some scary news for you about your husband's texting habits," Comphs says dryly. "Believe it or not, man, we're actually checking on you, not checking on Josty through you."

"Uh," Tyson says. "Thanks? I'm okay, I promise." He gets twin raised eyebrows in return, and the light clicks on in his head. "Wait a minute, did he tell you to check on me?"

"Maybe," Kerf hedges. "He said you seemed more upset about him leaving than he was, and he just wanted to make sure you were doing okay."

Tyson sighs, but he can feel himself smiling. "Tell him I'm fine, and that he can believe me when I tell him that myself."

Comphs makes a face. "Wow, you guys are gross," he says. "How are you so domestic already? You've only been together for, like, three months."

"That is not how time works," Tyson says. "We've been married since September, and it's January, bud."

"You've only been together since, like, just before Thanksgiving," Comphs shoots back. "I can count."

"Anyway," Kerf cuts in. "He's worried about you, but we can tell him that you're not wasting away with all of your feelings, and that should make him feel better. And if you want to get out of your house, you can always call us, y'know? We can grab dinner or something."

Tyson's a little taken aback, he's not going to lie. "Uh, thanks," he says. "That's—you guys don't have to do that."

"We're your teammates," Comphs says, and for a guy who was just chirping Tyson about counting, he sure seems serious now. "We've got your back, man."

"Thanks, Comphs," Tyson says. Comphs is kind of a tough nut to crack, but Tyson's starting to suspect that it's mostly on purpose because he doesn't want people to know that he's made of melty marshmallow on the inside. He remembers what Comphs had said about Josty all those months ago, the not-quite-shovel talk, and he reaches out to bump his fist against Comphs' shoulder. "I'll text you, I promise."

"He never texts me anymore," Gabe calls from the other side of the locker room, and if Tyson hadn't suspected it before, he'd know it now: Josty set this whole thing up, the rest of the team checking in on him and/or gently bullying him into not moping. It sort of makes his heart want to burst a little, and it definitely makes him want to do something more meaningful than sending dumb "Somebody in Denver, CO loves me!" postcards.

He's definitely sending the postcards; he bought a whole bunch from the zoo and the museum, and he'd sort of promised, so they're getting sent. He just thinks there's probably more he can do. To have and to hold or whatever, and just because they didn't say all of the normal wedding words doesn't mean Tyson hasn't heard them enough to know he wants them for himself, anyway.

The thing is that he only has, like, parts of an idea, not the whole thing. It's coming together, but talking it out will probably help, so Tyson makes a snap decision. "Hey, Sammy," he says, leaning a little away from Kerf and Comphs so he doesn't shout in their faces. "Can I invite someone else over for dinner? I want to make Josty-related plans."

Sammy sighs like he's being put upon, but he glances at Colin and then nods. "As long as they're house trained."

Tyson raises an eyebrow at Kerf. "Is he house trained?"

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep, and it'll look like an accident," Comphs says.

Kerf ignores him to grin at Tyson. "We'll be there," he says. "Whatever you're planning, we'll help you out."

-0-

Tyson takes a deep breath, holds it for a three count, and lets it back out, and then he knocks on the door in front of him.

"Just a minute," he hears from inside, and then there's the sound of someone scrambling around on their way to the door. The handle turns, and then Josty's pulling the door open. "Man, you guys are—uh."

Tyson smiles and holds up a bag. "I brought food?"

"Oh my god," Josty says, smile lighting up his face as he laughs. "Did you actually drive all the way up to Loveland just to see me?"

"Well, I had to check out the sights," Tyson says reasonably. "I think you were right, though. We should _not_ have our honeymoon here."

"Oh my god," Josty repeats. "Get in here."

"Gotta move out of the doorway, babe," Tyson says, laughing.

"Right," Josty says. His smile doesn't dim at all as he moves backwards into the room. "Babe, what are you doing here?"

"Well," Tyson says, moving past Josty and putting his bag on the little table in the room. "I heard there was this cute guy up here, someone I might want to drive up and talk to. A few of my teammates think I'm super into him or whatever."

"Tys," Josty says, and when Tyson turns, he's immediately pulled into a hug. Josty's a little taller than him, but he tucks his face into Tyson's neck with ease, and Tyson wraps his arms around Josty and feels like he's breathing normally again for the first time since Josty left. "Hi."

"Hi," Tyson says into Josty's curls. "Man, the last two weeks have sucked."

Josty snorts. "Tell me about it."

"You mean your minions haven't told you already?" Tyson asks, laughing as he pulls back. "Compher's too big to be an effective shadow, and the hair's like a day-glo sign."

"Yeah, he's not stealthy," Josty says with a grin. "You're okay, though?"

"I'm fine, babe," Tyson says, leaning in to kiss him. "I miss you like crazy, but I'm fine. How are _you_ doing?"

Josty shrugs. "It is what it is," he says. "I'm playing my game and trying to keep my head up. It's all I can do, right?"

Tyson nods. "It won't be long," he says, and he still believes it with everything in himself. "And then you'll be back with the team, back home."

"Yeah," Josty says, smiling. "I know. What'd you bring to eat, huh? It's probably better than the room service I ordered."

"North Italia," Tyson says. "We definitely need to heat it up."

Josty laughs. "Is this why Comphs asked me if I had a microwave a couple of days ago?"

"It is," Tyson confirms. "See, the spying can go both ways."

"Sneaky," Josty says with a smile. He opens the bag and starts pulling out containers. "You gonna help me with this, or was driving it up here your part of the work so heating it up is mine?"

"I guess I can help," Tyson says, sighing exaggeratedly before bumping his hip against Josty's. "There should be plates in the bottom, and plastic silverware."

"I won't tell Willy you got us plastic silverware," Josty promises.

"Best husband," Tyson says, smacking a kiss to his cheek. "Yeah, he'd probably be disappointed that I didn't bring the good stuff from home."

Josty snorts. "Babe, our silverware is from Ikea."

Tyson raises an eyebrow. "What's your point?"

"Nothing, I guess," Josty says, grinning as he reaches back into the bag. "How much food did you get?"

"Enough for you to have some leftovers," Tyson says, shrugging. "And for us to eat tomorrow."

Josty turns to look at him. "Tomorrow, huh?"

"I have to drive back down for morning skate before the Jackets game in two days," Tyson says. "I'm yours until then. And, uh."

This is the wild card part of his plan; it's not that he thinks it's going to go poorly, but Tyson's nervous anyway. Josty's looking at him, a curious expression on his face, and Tyson has to take another deep breath.

"So, like," he says. "This whole thing—us. I don't think we got off on the wrong foot or anything, but we didn't get off on the right foot, either. Like, it's super not a secret that I didn't want to get married if it wasn't about me being in love with someone."

"No, you were pretty clear about that," Josty agrees. "What's going on, Tys?"

"Just, like," Tyson says. "I've got this whole thing. Let me get through it, okay?"

"As long as this isn't you asking me for a divorce because you met someone else," Josty says. He's clearly trying to make it a joke, but his tone wavers a little, and Tyson knows him well enough to know that he's getting a really fake smile right now.

"Holy shit, no," Tyson blurts out. "This is me asking you to marry me for real, what the fuck."

"It's," Josty says, and he looks surprised, like he'd been expecting anything but this. "What?"

"I had a whole thing, but I guess I kind of spoiled the ending, so," Tyson says, taking a step closer to Josty. "Look, the bottom line is that I was expecting this to be—fine, honestly. To be like having a friend around, and that would be it, and then we'd get divorced when I retired and it would just be this—this weird blip in my life, I guess. But that's not what it's been at all, because you're sweet and you're funny, and you get me so well, and even when it's you having the shittiest part of your career to date you still find ways to make sure I'm doing okay even though all I'm doing is sending you dumb postcards."

"I love the postcards," Josty protests, voice a little wobbly. "I have—I saved all of them. I keep them on the bedstand."

Tyson smiles and takes another step forward. "You don't think the things I do are dumb," he says, quieter now. "You think my lava cake is incredible, you don't make fun of me for liking to cook, you're, like, amazingly patient with how bad I am at feelings—"

"So bad," Josty agrees. He's smiling and his eyes are a little shiny. "Is this the whole speech? Are you doing it anyway, or was the original version like an hour long?"

Tyson laughs. "No, I just," he says. He reaches into his pocket and grabs the ring box before dropping to one knee. "Tyson Jost, will you marry me for real?"

"Get off the floor, you have a game in two days," Josty says, but he's falling to his knees in front of Tyson, leaning in to kiss him. "Just so we're clear, I'm not divorcing you just so we can get married again."

Tyson laughs, pulling him in. "No, I was thinking we could just do something over the summer," he says. "Just us and our families, maybe on a beach. Like people renewing their vows, except we'd actually have vows this time, not just a piece of paper."

"Yeah, that's lit," Josty says, laughing and very possibly crying a little at the same time. "I promise not to say that at our actual wedding."

"You can if you want," Tyson offers.

Josty's definitely crying and laughing as he pulls Tyson in and kisses him. "Hey, Tyson Barrie, I'm gonna marry you for real."

Tyson can't do anything but smile into the kiss. "Yeah, Tyson Jost, you sure are."

**Author's Note:**

> -their wedding is a giant disaster, y'all. it's on the beach, because nobody could talk them out of it. sand gets everywhere. it's windy. there's sand in the food. they _love_ it.
> 
> -comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> -follow me on twitter if you want to hear me yell about things as i write them! let me know who you are first, as i don't accept random follower requests.


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